Winning and Losing
by Crazy Foxie
Summary: You win some, you lose some. Whether that's battles, friends, or even your own choices. Discover Meta Knight's daunting past as the story gradually unfolds itself into something more than a war between good and bad.
1. According to Plan

**A/N:** This is what happens when you have a writer's block: you start writing a completely new fic in completely the wrong fandom. Discussions in KRR have led me to this, and here, I'll answer all those rhetorical, ridiculous questions. Plus there's very little fics which centralise around the GSA.

This story focuses on Meta Knight and his past from creation to Pupu Village, and how he turned from a demon beast to a Star Warrior. Yes, he is an experiment in this. If you don't like that theory, either read this and see my point of view, or don't read it altogether. It's entirely up to you.

Few important points about the chapter: I tried to make Nightmare see his demon beasts as 'its' rather than have genders, so hopefully you can see that characteristic rather than think how repetitive it is. And I'll be calling Meta Knight a Star Warrior for a while, even though he technically isn't one (yet), since that is what Nightmare and Meta Knight himself believe he is.

Those who are reading, please enjoy the opening chapter! And terribly sorry about the lengthy author's note!

**Disclaimer:** Naturally, the people you recognise will belong to Nintendo. Random demon beasts and a number of ninjas and warriors will be mine. I'll say which things are mine when the chapters come to make things easier.

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**-- Chapter 1: According to Plan --**

Nightmare observed from the corner the works of his next creation. This room was the source of where everything began, with its high-tech machinery and everlasting experiments. In all areas of the dark room, servants sufficiently worked at their designated places. Some were frantically tapping away at touch screens with their multiple arms, others were taking samples from deep blue liquid and scrutinising the solution with their one eye.

Naturally, these demon beasts were created to do that job.

It saved him from putting his fingers into something so trivial and it served as an efficient way of producing the large variety of demon beasts he owned. With so many creations under his command, he could do anything with a single thought. All creations were made to be useful to him in some way, whether that was for spying, power or speed.

However, he still had a long way to go. And this one in making would be the one most valuable to him.

Nightmare caught one of the attendants' eyes and beckoned it over. With its three legs, it hurried over to him frantically, bowing down to him as it got closer.

"What is it, Your Honour?" it questioned, its furry head bent down and waiting avidly for his command. Its spidery legs shook uncontrollably under the strained weight of his large body, but it held its posture regardless of their protests.

"Is it ready yet?" He had been waiting seventy years for this moment, and he wasn't going to wait for any longer. His hand clenched as he saw the demon beast before him bend lower apologetically.

"I'm most sorry, Your Honour. Preparations must be perfect for it to work." Its legs buckled even more as its face drew closer to the floor. "It will be finished today."

"It better be," Nightmare snapped, his eyes narrowing.

Under the pressure of its weight and Nightmare's haunting glare, the creature suddenly fell onto the floor, breaking the respectable bow. It was extremely sudden, and its effect was like a hot poker to ice. Its legs were spread out, and its wide eyes looked up pleadingly at the towering silhouette. "Please, Your Honour, forgive--!"

Its words were cut short as Nightmare pointed a finger at him and fired a beam of black. He watched before him the demon beast frazzle on the spot, twisting in agony. Its legs danced in the air uncontrollably as its body began to dissolve. Creatures around the room stopped their work at the shrill screaming to see the death of their companion as the struggle continued.

As suddenly as it had begun, there were no remains of the demon beast. The creatures at the machinery froze as Nightmare looked up at them, smiling. And that was never a good sign.

"If you don't want to be like that, then you should get that experiment done soon." He continued smiling as the demon beasts instantly went back to their work, typing on the touch screens quicker than before. He raised his chin as he inspected the busy atmosphere. Soon enough wasn't soon enough. He wanted that creation done now.

He _needed _it now.

Minutes stretched to hours, and he had successfully fried a dozen of his own creations. The beasts around him were pushing themselves to the point they were practically crying as they continued their labours. Each one was hoping they wouldn't be killed next, hoping they were providing a sufficient enough job for their master.

But demon beasts don't cry – only privileged ones deserved such a valuable thing, and he could count the number on one hand. These ones were only created to serve without a single thought on whether it was right or what they were creating. Only the key element of fear and discipline.

"Um, Your Honour?" a meek voice said next to him. "Preparations are complete. You'll finally have the best creation in your hands, and then everything in the universe will be ours!"

Nightmare grinned manically and set his gaze on the platform where all the necessary components were gathered, lifting a finger and killing the servant next to him for its mouthy remarks. Any minute now, there would be the dazzling light and then there would be the fruits of his labours. The final piece of his army.

He drummed his fingers against each other agitatedly, waiting for that light like a kid at Christmas. Soon, his dreams will come true, and he can find out the secret of the Star Warriors. He knew the experiment will be a success; it was a matter of when.

Finally, brightness filled the room. Nightmare shielded his eyes, forgetting how much he detested the process and how the light was unnatural for him. Regardless, he was so excited he kept his fingers open so he could peek through the minute gap.

A small ball appeared on the platform, and the blinding light ceased. The creatures seated at their touch screens collapsed as their work drew to a close. In their boss' good mood, they knew they would not be killed unless it was for a suitable reason. To maintain that good mood, they filed up between Nightmare and the newly created beast.

Nightmare made his way towards the platform swiftly between the rows of servants, adrenaline rushing through his fingers as he reached out to touch his perfect creation at last.

His fingers stopped midway.

The puffball on it was smaller than he expected. Its deep blue skin matched the solution he saw the one eyed creatures experiment with, and its shoes were purple, a similar shade to his own cloak. Strong leathery wings with claw like joints were outstretched on the platform, strongly resembling a snow angel. Its eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as it breathed steadily.

Nightmare drew back his skeletal hand, hiding it in the depths of his cloak. It would serve as an asset for his intentions, but that wasn't the only thing he liked about it already. This demon beast was by far the one most similar to him. It was genetically modified that way. He didn't know how this beast was like him, however it was as good as his child – no other demon beast got that status.

There were still a few loose ends, even if his own Star Warrior was perfect in every way. "Bring in those final shots necessary!" he ordered his already waiting servants. He turned away from the platform and issued commands as he progressed his way down the long file of demon beasts, pointing alternating directions as he did so. "Make those wings turn into a cloak or something – we don't want the Star Warriors to find out it's a demon beast. Get the starship ready for launch. And where's my spirit?"

The beasts around him scattered and branched off in several different directions. Nightmare observed this activity and suddenly picked out one which seemed the most idle. He could taste the fear of it as it bowed down to him.

"This Star Warrior," he began calmly, "it has to sleep to mature. How long for?"

The hidden lens under a mop of tangled wires looked up at Nightmare's question. "It's a he. And he'd have to sleep for at least three hundred years." The robotic creature shrank as Nightmare pointed a finger at it menacingly.

"A he, you say?" he mused, his finger poised between the pair of them. "And do you think, my little minion, I can wait three hundred years after just seeing him after seventy?" He smirked as the robot shook its head frantically.

"But we can't do anything about it! If he's going to grow up thinking he's a Star Warrior, he has to sleep for that long just like any other," the beast explained.

Nightmare pondered over the demon beast's words. Waking him up earlier would cause problems, and the results would be highly unpredictable. He had expected a mere fifty years of napping. He didn't imagine it to be six times as much.

"Fine," he said at last. The demon beast gave a sigh of relief as he lowered his finger. "Put Moony in the starship with him to notify us immediately when he will wake. Make sure you alter its lifespan before doing so."

"Y-yes Your Honour," the demon beast uttered immediately, bowing repeatedly as it left Nightmare. Not many Beasts survived from one of Nightmare's death threats, and it was thankful to still live.

Nightmare needed to spare a few valuable lives. Sacrificing too many was a pain to compensate, and he had more important things to dedicate his time to rather than make more creations to unleash his wrath on.

A one footed demon beast came over and passed Nightmare his drink of spirit, before dashing away almost as soon as Nightmare had snatched the drink from it. He drained the glass impatiently, throwing it soon after at the same demon beast for not waiting for him to finish. The glass was caught in midair and floated behind the one footed servant.

He watched a pair of highly specialised scientists on the platform prod the puffball carefully before injecting more chemicals, who was now propped up by a few smaller demon beasts. A robed creature with long green tresses was stroking his wings, and the vague outline of a cloak could be seen. And through this, the Star Warrior continued to sleep.

The robotic demon beast he had spoken to earlier came back into the room with something small in its grasp. It set the small thing on a low table and from its belly, a compartment opened and a needle emerged. The point soon made contact with the small thing he couldn't see, and could only presume it was Moony.

A silver starship was brought into the room within a few short minutes and was pulled to the platform by several strongly built demon beasts that were meant to represent minotaurs. That piece of machinery was what Star Warriors depended on to grow up in and travel. Now that he had successfully created his own Star Warrior and his own phoney starship to match, there would be no one who would suspect him otherwise.

Nightmare laughed to himself as he went over to see how preparations were at closer quarters. The scientists took a step back, bowed to him, then left the room after injecting the final chemical. The robed beast lowered her head to acknowledge him, then continued work on the Star Warrior's cloak. There was more colour to it now that he was closer.

Everything was going according to plan. It would be delayed by two hundred and fifty years, but that didn't concern Nightmare anymore. He could wait however many years for the Star Warriors' secret. He knew all about the Galaxy Soldier Army and their many members' tactics and weaknesses. What he didn't know about was the Star Warriors. The purpose of creating his own Star Warrior was to achieve that information without arousing suspicion, and if it took him four hundred years to finally obtain that information, it would be better than handing the job to someone else.

That secret was something worth waiting for. Something that could be his downfall, or his victory.

The robed creature stepped back as the cloak was finally complete. It was blue to match his skin, complete with an aquamarine mantle. Nightmare complimented the creature with a brief nod of his head.

The minotaurs hoisted the puffball onto their wide shoulders and placed him in the seat of the starship. The Star Warrior fitted perfectly in the seat there, snug for his long sleep. The demon beast with the wiry head jogged over and stuck Moony on the inside of the starship hastily. From the brief moment Nightmare saw it, it was a silver snake-like body with tiny arms.

Nightmare held up one of his hands as one of the minotaurs made their way to close the hatch. He looked at the puffball still sleeping there, breathing in and out peacefully. Knowing he was his son, he placed a thin hand onto the Star Warrior's head. It felt warm, and it somehow forced a feeling Nightmare never knew he had: affection. In that brief moment, he felt some connection, one which he didn't have with any other demon beast. Was it because they were connected by blood? Was it because he had never touched a sleeping demon beast before?

"Send him into orbit," Nightmare said as he removed his hand swiftly. Whatever he was feeling, it didn't make a difference. Without questioning his sudden paternal gesture, the minotaurs complied and sealed the starship. Nightmare's gaze followed the silver machine through his glasses, watching until it left the room and the doors closed behind it.

"Tell me something, Spinner," Nightmare ordered the green haired demon beast next to him without turning round. "After three hundred years, will he know he's part of HNM?"

Spinner bowed her head before replying. "Some of his genetics are yours, Your Honour. His behaviour, attitude and intentions are similar to yours. Whether he will know about his true existence is debatable, Your Honour."

"So will he know about his mission?"

"Yes, Your Honour."

Nightmare was happy to hear this. Something could easily go wrong if he didn't know what his mission was. Things will go exactly as planned. "Once he wakes up three hundred years later, we will find out where he is through Moony and then we need to send a powerful demon beast to Larpez right away."

"Why Larpez, Your Honour?" Spinner dared to ask. "The Galaxy Soldier Army are on Xenon. Why lure him to a star so far away?"

Nightmare tucked his hand into his cloak. "If we sent him right next door, other Star Warriors will detect the demon beast and slay it before our comrade stands even a chance at getting in. No, better to have the fight a good distance away, hence why Larpez is most suitable. The timing would be most unfortunate, and then they have no choice but to take our prized, perhaps wounded little comrade. Once he's in, he'll obtain the information for me at long last. It's just like the Trojan War." Nightmare tilted his head to the side, smirking evilly at Spinner. "Would you care to do the job?"

After a brief moment of shock, Spinner lowered her head with obedience. "I'm very grateful you assigned me this important job, Your Honour. I won't fail."

Nightmare's grin widened, before making his way across the broad room to the exit. His experiment was a success – he couldn't afford to waste any more time here.

"Your Honour?" Spinner's voice called. He stopped in his tracks, waiting for the demon beast's question. "Why didn't you give him a name?"

"I thought I might as well leave it for those good-for-nothing Star Warriors to decide," he replied simply. On that final note, he strode down the room and left through the metal sliding doors without any further interruptions.

Things will go exactly as planned.

**-- End --**

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**A/N:** There! First chapter done. I completely made up Larpez, Spinner, and all those other crazy demon beasts you've never heard of before. Xenon's an element I picked out from the Periodic Table, if you want to know :) This is the opening chapter, so it should set the scene a bit for you.

Please let me know what you thought of it so far!

**Edit 19/02 - **Made major edits in terms of demon beasts and description.


	2. Bringing in the Trojan Horse

**A/N:** Two updates of two different fics on the same day? Hehe, I mist be crazy.

But anyway, here it is, chapter 2. Spinner belongs to me, but that's only because I needed a demon beast of some sort. I've got to say, Nightmare's pretty bad at naming demon beasts ;p Oh, and I've started calling demon beasts like this rather than Demon Beasts. It was getting on my nerves plus it looked strange.

So please enjoy the chapter!

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**-- Chapter 2: Bringing in the Trojan Horse --**

The puffball seated in the starship opened his yellow eyes tiredly. How long had he been sleeping for? Rubbing the back of his head, he got up from his side to sit on the chair properly to observe his surroundings.

The area outside the comforts of his starship was black, dotted with indistinctive colours. Some formed swirls, others seemed to wave in long lines. The young Star Warrior knew these were stars – a thought that came spontaneously to him. Some contained life, others were less fortunate.

He lay back into his seat, fingering the hem of his cloak. It calmed him to see something so beautiful surround him like this, envelope him in their infinite beauty. Just seeing them above his head made him wonder where he came from.

Touching a familiar part of his forehead, more thoughts seemed to rush through. Who were his parents? Why did this particular spot feel so important? And if he did have any parents, where were they? Perhaps they were somewhere on those many stars, wondering about their lost son.

A sudden beeping noise snapped him out of his thoughts. He took one look at the control panel and instantly knew what was happening. A light flashing 'warp' repeatedly was enough for the puffball to slam a few buttons on the touch screens with a grave expression.

As a Star Warrior, he had to fight demon beasts. He knew he was a Star Warrior. Whatever they were or what intentions they had, he had no idea. All that he knew was that they had to be defeated at all costs. But that wasn't the only mission he had – there was Holy NightMare Co. and the Star Warrior's secret tied into it. He couldn't make sense of it now, but perhaps they'd be someone willing to help him once he fought the demon beast.

The Star Warrior braced himself as the silver starship zoomed faster than he imagined. The controls, like his mission, came instinctively to him. Even though it was meant to be something he should be grateful for, it somehow didn't feel natural. As if someone else was doing the work for him. Seeing the previously stationary lights rush past him made him feel nauseous, but he kept going.

As quickly as it begun, the starship halted in front of a blazing star. The ripples of orange which seemed to swim over it didn't seem to be poisonous or anything to be wary of, so the puffball steered the starship towards its atmosphere.

Breaking through the surface, he could tell the star was a barren one judging by the vast amount of sand and absence of life. Gradually losing elevation, the starship landed and the Star Warrior opened the hatch. Sand slapped his face and the strong wind made his cloak billow wildly.

To prevent any of the grains getting into his mouth, he wrapped both ends of his cloak round himself hurriedly with slight difficulty. Leaping down from the starship, he looked round the landscape for any form of life. The starship had detected a demon beast, so why wasn't there one here?

"Hey kid, are you lost?" a voice called from behind him. He whirled round in shock, trying to locate the source of the voice. "Up here."

Sat atop a rocky cliff, a figure robed in turquoise smirked at him. Green hair matching her eyes seemed unaffected by the gale, instead lying limp on the girl's shoulders. Dangling by her ears were silver spikes, which seemed to sway gently similar to a metronome.

She jumped down from the cliff to the puffball's eye level, the silver hitting each other with a wind chime-like jangle. She narrowed her eyes with a quizzing expression. "Looking at your appearance and that piece of metal down there, you must be a Star Warrior."

Lost for words, he confirmed her statement by nodding. "There's a demon beast on this star somewhere. Has there been any suspicious activity?"

The girl waved a hand casually. "Drop the formalities, hero. I don't like people trying to be polite."

He stared at her blankly. "I do need to find that demon beast. Do you have any leads for me, please?" He froze as the girl before him began to laugh haughtily.

"I remember telling you to drop the formalities. It doesn't suit you. Hero, you're going to pay for that. I'll show you Spinner's real form!"

He shielded his eyes with his cape from the sudden wave of light and sand. He didn't mean to sound formal, but rather it seemed to spill out that way. And what did she mean by 'Spinner's real form'? The dust soon cleared, and the Star Warrior uncovered his eyes. He gave an audible gasp.

Where the girl was seconds ago, a large spider had taken her place. Eight legs stomped around excitedly, the striped colours of green dancing up and down. A fanged mouth stirred rhythmically, as if it was occupying itself with chewing gum. Saliva dribbled down the cheeks, several droplets catching onto the long hairs. On the top of the head was a crown of spikes, and four bloodshot eyes glared directly at him.

"Bring it on, hero!" she shouted menacingly. Without waiting for the puffball's reaction, she fired several thin strands of silk from her mouth. Realising the approaching danger, the puffball leapt out of danger and watched the strands pierce the stone and shatter it.

"It looks like you're serious," he commented as the spider bit off the silk huffily. It was hard to imagine that this spider was the girl he had previously been talking to, but it was true. It was necessary for him to kill her now.

He jumped slightly to the side when he saw a thicker thread of silk home straight towards him. It would be troublesome if he managed to get himself in even one bit. Spinner smiled triumphantly, jerking her head to the side and forcing the silk to loop round horizontally.

Upon seeing the thread on both sides, he acted on his own impulse to get away. He flung his cape around his small body and immediately after he released his cloak, he saw the two ends of the silk collide a good distance away. He couldn't make sense of what he had just done.

Spinner laughed arrogantly. "Hard work really does pay off. That cloak defies the laws of physics and enables you to travel in a different dimension. Meaning effectively, you can teleport. That move's called Dimensional Cape!"

How did she know so much about him? Even he didn't know about that until now.

He didn't have much time to recover, since she had once again opened her mouth with another bombardment of threads. Somehow, he knew Spinner's weak point was her eyes, and attacking her head on was the best way to eliminate her. But how could he get to them? How did he know it wouldn't be some failed attempt?

He was the puppet of some performance, putting full trust into the intuition pulling the strings. With no understanding of where the assumption had come from, all he could do was hope it was right.

The chain of thoughts made him lose his concentration hastily, and he felt one thread of silk brush against the hem of his cloak. Even though it was simply material, it somehow sent a searing pain through his body.

"How?" He bent down in exhaustion, panting slightly as he tried to overcome the reality of it all. If the cloak could defy physics, perhaps this was the price.

"That cape can turn into wings. I'd take better care of it if I were you." The spider approached the fallen warrior steadily sucking all the thread back in. The slurping noise made him feel queasy hearing it.

Wings? How was the cape supposed to transform into a pair of wings? Nothing like that should exist – perhaps she was lying, so she could take advantage of his confusion and pin him down, exactly where she wanted.

"You want to try it out? Then try dodging _this_!" Spinner threw her head back in preparation, before spurting out a vast amount of silk from above. It seemed to approach from all sides, forcing him on a spot.

He felt his cape tear in half, but it didn't seem to hurt. He could see from the corner of his eyes the cape stretch out into a pair of wings. It looked like the spider's words were true, no matter how impossible it seemed. The wings were not imaginary – he could feel the agitation in them as they waited for flight. The wind no longer served as a nuisance, but rather as a fuel.

With the wings that he now knew of, he lifted himself off the ground and charged towards the approaching strands of white. Gliding by each thread, he easily swayed himself to the direction which was safe. Each point headed his way, but he was somehow able to avoid them.

Through the tangle of silk, the soaring puffball didn't see the spider grin, and send a mass of needles towards where he was about to swerve. They managed to find their way into his wings and his body, and his cry of pain and shock could be heard before he could stop it. Spilling droplets of blood, he could tell the flapping of his wings were weak and his breathing heavy. He'd never defeat this demon beast at this rate.

Spinner below him laughed. "I'm impressed you're still in the air. Bravery isn't everything though." She cackled some more, before hurling a few thin shots at him.

He didn't even attempt to dodge it. He could feel the burning as each thread slashed his face, one hitting his wing. Tired from exhaustion, he plunged down to the surface with fast acceleration. Wings failing and eyes closed, the puffball continued his descent until he hit the rocks with full force.

Hearing the spider approach him, he didn't try to get up. He struggled to open his eyes, but they insisted on remaining half open. Each muscle seemed numb, and running away didn't seem like an option anymore. Trying to move one wing was impossible now. Panting harder, his hands clung to the brittle rocks, waiting for the finishing blow.

"I've got to admit, I'm disappointed," he heard Spinner taunt. He didn't have enough energy to say otherwise, so he remained silent. "I was expecting a bit more fun from you. I guess I should just kill you now."

He could hear the threads as they sliced through the air. He closed his eyes as he braced himself for the worst.

However, the sound of something being cut met his ears. His ears must be numb, just like the rest of his body. Why couldn't he make sense of anything?

Shouts. Indistinctive sounds of metal upon metal. He couldn't make sense of anything, right from the beginning. Why was there no one to explain everything to him? Curses. Why was he here? Why could he not even defeat his first demon beast? A roar. Why was the pain so unbearable? Why couldn't he move?

He felt his hand slip down the rocks.

"You've gotten yourself beaten up quite a bit," a voice above him commented. It sounded distant, and it was difficult to even make out what it was saying. It sounded different to the arrogant tone Spinner had. Who was this? Another enemy?

The Star Warrior could feel himself being set to an upright position. He didn't protest – he knew he had little energy left for that. With a lot of effort, he forced his eyes open to see who was talking to him.

A pair of glistening black eyes gazed down at him from the slits of a mask. An explosion of blonde hair escaped from all directions available, defying gravity as it stood proudly towards the sky. A black chest plate bearing a star protected his front torso, and a dull green cape was wrapped around his neck. Pieces of metal he couldn't distinguish were left on a rock some distance away, reflecting light serenely as the rays hit it.

"Looking at the mess you're in, I doubt you can even stand." The man sighed heavily. "What am I going to do with you? Here, you should drink some water." The stranger passed him a wooden gourd from his bag pack, removing the cap and tilting it above his mouth.

He let the liquid rush into his mouth, feeling a little strength return to him as he gulped down each bit. He could feel the weight of the cloak return as the wings folded back into their hidden form. The man before him smiled.

"I'm Jecra. What's your name?" He took back the water gourd and replaced it back into his bag pack. Turning back round, he waited for the answer patiently.

"I don't know," the puffball stated simply as he ran a hand over a toothed boulder.

"Where do you come from?"

"I don't know," he repeated. He tried to hide the annoyance of the questions, but Jecra's eyes sparkled even more.

"Things must be complicated for you," the man opposite mused sympathetically. "How long have you been around for?"

The blue puffball narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?" Now that he had pretty much met someone who wanted to kill him twenty minutes ago, he should be a bit more cautious with his words and attitude.

"As in on this barren planet. You better not be living here." Jecra looked round at the rocks and dust pointedly with his chin raised slightly. "This sort of area isn't suitable for people like us."

"I wasn't planning to," the Star Warrior snapped. "Only someone like you would raise an issue like that."

"Oh? Says someone who looks like a porcupine?" Jecra countered, calm as ever.

The bloodstained puffball gave a reproachful glare as he sat up. "So you _are_ a demon beast, just like the other one," he accused coldly. "Come to gloat at me since I couldn't defend myself too well."

A look flashed in Jecra's eyes, but the Star Warrior assumed it was anger rather than hurt. The puffball's yellow eyes remained on Jecra's black ones, maintaining an invisible link between the two. They stared at each other, waiting for the other to back down.

Finally, Jecra looked away uncertainly. "…I didn't come to gloat at you," he said carefully. "I didn't mean to insult you."

Somehow, a heavy burden seemed to lift as he replied, "Me too." It was a strange feeling, how a heated argument had dissolved into nothingness as he said those two words. Was this person the enemy, or a friend? If it was another demon beast wanting to hurt him, then he would have done so ages ago. And he certainly wasn't a friend since he had only known him for a few minutes.

"You should join the Galaxy Soldier Army," Jecra suddenly said to break the silence, trying to make it sound spontaneous. However, he could tell by the hurried tone and impulsive hesitance that he had wanted to bring it up earlier.

"Gala…?" he began to confirm, but everything seemed to blur and mingle with each other. Each distinctive shape merged into each other and sounds were distorted as they overlapped. The pain around his body was gradually fading along with his sense of movement. His head was spinning, but he tried to focus on Jecra's explanation.

Jecra's proud words came out as a series of gurgles, impossible to distinguish. Each syllable slurred to the next, and he couldn't tell when it started and when it finished. He vaguely saw Jecra get to his feet, but his eyes were already half closed. His hands felt limp, and the hard rocks seemed welcoming all of a sudden, an abrupt change from their jagged state as if they had melted.

"It'll be great if you joined! So, what do you say?" Jecra turned on his heel to face the puffball, but there was no reply. Only the soft breathing.

Eyes closed and hands outstretched, the puffball had fainted from exhaustion. Jecra shook his head before crossing his arms thoughtfully. "What am I going to do with you?" He smiled cheekily, even though he knew the blue puffball couldn't see or hear him. "I'm taking you to the Galaxy Soldier Army whether you like it or not."

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**-- End --**

**A/N: **Hehe, I think some people were particularly curious about this chapter, so I'm sorry about the late update. I do have to focus on multiple fics, so I guess that's my only real reason.

Hope you liked it and a review would be something worthwhile to do whilst waiting for the next chapter! I want to know what you think and if there's any constructive criticism you have for me!


	3. Something as Simple as a Name

**A/N:** Haha! Meta Knight's finally in the GSA base, but will he be accepted? So now, this chapter focuses on Sir Arthur's take on the problem. As well as Meta Knight's envy in everyone's names ;p Oh, and I presume puffballs have ears, so I've included that sense with them as well as noses. Even if you can't actually see them :) I really want to know where these things are, you know?

For those who have been reading this from the beginning, you may realise I have renamed Larpes to Larpez. This is since there have been some pronunciation issues and the confusion of it sounding like some disease. Thanks to the help of my friends on dA (thanks again!), Larpez will be the changed name, being pronounced as Lar-pez rather than Lar-peas or something. You know, like those funny li'l sweets in the tube with the character head on top? Yeah, pronounce the end of Larpez like that please! If you don't know what I'm talking about, then, just read it how it looks. Z's are awesome, alright?

Also, I apologise in advance if I end up having the same ideas as you if you intend to write your own 'Meta Knight's past' story – the bare skeleton's all planned out (save for Yamikage's betrayal, inconvenient man) and it looks like it'll be 55 chapters. So beware, people.

Sir Lancelot doesn't belong to me. He's an official GSA member, but I assigned the name to him and moulded his character. We'll see more of him in later chapters, naturally! Dal from KRR/DalSifoDyas from DeviantART helped me name him, so credit goes to her too!

The only real OC that's mine is Morgan, who was Arthur's wife to avoid confusion. Hmmm, recognise massive reference to Knights of the Round Table? Lots more to come I'm afraid. But she only gets mentioned because...oh, just read it.

Hope you enjoy the chapter, after my long author's note!

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**-- Chapter 3: Something as Simple as a Name --**

Had he really lost consciousness? It was something he couldn't control at the time, but it made him realise how unbelievably gullible he was. He had just let the enemy do as they please, let them whisk him away to some unknown place.

He simply knew that as a fact. Now, he could take in his surroundings without even opening his eyes and feel what he feared was correct.

The clutter of metal could be heard over the quiet murmurs he couldn't make out. Movement of heavy cotton was distinguishable, sometimes accompanied by the metallic footsteps. The strong scent was bitter with herbs and blood, to the point he could taste it on his lips and feel it linger there as he breathed.

But worst of all, he knew the feeling of someone examining him was present, eyes keen on his limp form as he did his best not to make his eyes flutter open in curiosity.

He had felt it before. It made him feel uneasy, something that made him feel helpless and useless. Similar to how any test subject in a lab would.

"He's awake, isn't he?" teased a recognisable voice. He sensed rather than heard the large movement as the unseen figure of Jecra moved closer to him.

"I can't blame him, to be honest," another male voice said in reply. It was monotonous, something an unfeeling character would adopt. "Finally awakened and then almost being killed in two seconds flat. You can expect him to be a bit wary now." The scraping of metal upon metal met his ears, making his eyes tighten involuntarily.

Jecra above him sighed. "Come on, we're not going to hurt you. How long does it take for you to realise that?"

The blue puffball immediately sat upright as he felt Jecra touch his arm. Snatching his arm away, his eyes flashed bitterly as he met Jecra's gaze, daring the soldier to touch him again silently. Such an action could easily to be to gain his trust, but also to hurt him a little bit more. With the enemy's true intentions still in the shadows, he had to be on his guard. At least he could move without wincing from the pain before.

The dark eyes under the mask flickered slightly as he withdrew his hand, sighing wearily. "This will take some work," he muttered.

"What is it you want from me?" the puffball asked, looking at the bed he was sat on. The faded pink blanket was on the floor, and the greyish bedcovers looked as if it had been used frequently. They felt thin, as if any severe movement would tear the bed sheets clean in half.

Jecra followed his gaze, opting not to answer such a hostile question. Giving a wry smile under his mask, he commented instead, "Yeah, sorry about that. With so many injured warriors, we don't exactly have the best facilities."

The pair of amber eyes looked up at Jecra's slowly. "Warriors? Facilities?"

"This is the infirmary of the GSA," the warrior explained. "We're in a middle of a war, so injured soldiers are coming in all the time." His head fell as the puffball's expression remained blank. "Do you even know about the war?"

"Everyone can't know everything, Jecra," the low voice said sharply. The yellow orbs travelled to the speaker.

He was much taller than Jecra, but equally gave off the aura of superiority. A blue helmet with a light plume matched his metallic shoes and white-rimmed armour, which came down to his thighs. A star exactly like Jecra's was on the centre of his helmet, above the slit where two crimson eyes bore into him lifelessly. It was noticeable how the light blue cloak fluttered at his calves, caressing the legs set apart, something neither the blue puffball nor Jecra had to even match his height.

"Oh, this is Sir Lancelot. Lance to keep it short," Jecra added as a side note, jerking his chin slightly. The way he said it so offhandedly made the blue puffball narrow his eyes slightly in jealousy. But the tall figure wasn't looking at the puffball anymore.

"Medicine isn't my area of expertise, yet you decided to pick me up on the way here to do all this for someone you barely know." His soft voice was careful, but the coldness was not unnoticeable. "I have my own squadron to take care of. Now, if you excuse me. I'll be in the training arena."

The lean figure wheeled the trolley holding various tools and needles from the demon beast to the wall before picking up his sword and shield on a nearby bed. The room seemed to echo with the clunking of his boots as he made his way towards the door. He turned, nodded briskly to Jecra, before leaving the room unhurriedly.

Seeing him go made the puffball tense up. Not only because he was now alone with Jecra, but also because he had no name to exchange with him. What did he refer him as now? The incompetent puffball? The porcupine, as Jecra said before?

"Something as simple as a name," he began, "is it something you're born with?"

Jecra shook his head vigorously. "No, it's something your parents should give you. It just comes as something you should remember right from birth." The warrior's expression saddened as he saw the puffball look away, deep in thought.

"…Is that right?"

They sat in several minutes of silence, at a loss of what to say. The room was motionless, save for the occasional movement from Jecra as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

The silence was only broken when the door to the infirmary burst open with a clatter. Both heads looked up to see a stout figure panting at the doorway.

"Urgent news, Jecra," the soldier said hurriedly. They could both tell it was urgent by the sudden intrusion and his worried expression, but neither raised the issue and let him continue. "Sir Arthur wants to see you. About him, I suppose." He gave a stiff bow, then ran back out again.

'About him'. That was what he was referred to as. The puffball on the bed looked up at Jecra. "Sir Arthur?"

"You're one for questions, aren't you?" the soldier snapped. His behaviour had changed abruptly upon hearing the news, the puffball noticed. Jecra brought a hand to his forehead, and made his way towards the door.

Uncertain of what to do, the Star Warrior slid off the bed and followed the troubled soldier. He couldn't trust him fully, but it was better to stick to him rather than be left on his own.

He walked in Jecra's wake, observing everything around him. There were many doors, which lead off to various bits of the headquarters. Each one was closed, but he had a vague idea they were rooms more horrific than the one he was in by the faint aroma of blood.

Jecra himself still seemed to be in deep thought as he trudged his way along the corridors. When they reached a spiral staircase, he only vaguely realised and raised his head slightly.

"Sir Arthur's room is up there," he said more to himself. He tilted his head to look down upon the puffball behind him. "Please don't ask any questions unless it's absolutely necessary."

After receiving confirmation, Jecra proceeded up the stone steps. Each slab was uneven, proving it to be a task for the pair to steady themselves as they gained height. There were torch brackets along the inner wall, the flame long gone as each charred stick camouflaged the dull surface.

"What's happening outside?" the Star Warrior suddenly asked, looking out the open space in the opposite wall interestedly.

Jecra didn't pause in his tracks, but continued his way back up the spiral staircase. Noticing his lack of response, the puffball's curiosity in his surroundings died and he continued up the stairs after the cloak, which was the only bit of him visible now.

As a result of the constant spinning and lack of concentration, he almost ran into Jecra when he stopped abruptly. The soldier raised his chin defiantly, then rapped on the golden knocker on the door in front of him.

"Enter," a voice called from within, and Jecra obediently opened the door and allowed the puffball to enter before him.

The room was cylindrical, with a high pointed ceiling and stone walls. Presumably, this was the top of a tower they had been climbing. Rows of books were lined up on one end of the room whilst the other had various scrolls and maps. A small table was in the middle of the room, where a puffball like him with golden shoulder plates was pouring over work of some sort.

Lilac ovals from under the matching helmet looked up briefly, before continuing to write more notes onto the paper.

"Jecra," he acknowledged, jotting down one last notation before setting down his pen and looking up properly. He raised a hand towards the blue puffball pointedly. "Care to explain this to me?"

The Star Warrior noticed how different Jecra was in Sir Arthur's presence. His shoulders were more rigid, his expression stern as he replied, "Absolutely, Sir." His posture was more formal, and the usual comments he had in store were kept away. He could only assume Sir Arthur was his boss.

The leader leaned back unconvinced, kicking his feet up onto the table lazily, waiting for Jecra's explanation.

"He was on Larpez. His starship detected a demon beast there and he didn't even possess a weapon. I had no choice but to help."

The blue puffball looked up at the word 'starship'. Where _was_ it? Had they taken it away from him for inspection? He needed to find it now – his warpstar was still in there. But somehow, his feet remained rooted as Arthur snorted contemptuously.

"Had no choice? I have sources otherwise which say you went on your own accord." The leader's derisive tone seemed to slice through the room, cutting the target cleanly into two without raising his weapon. However, Jecra's exterior remained intact.

"With all due respect, Sir, he was injured," Jecra argued sternly. He took a step forward to further his point, but brought it back to maintain his position by the door.

"Injured? Our race was taught to be able to defeat our first demon beast on our own." He gazed doubtfully at the blue puffball, still hovering near Jecra. He had little confidence, Arthur observed. But his glowing, amber orbs were burning with questions.

The soldier looked down in defeat. "That's right, Sir, I wanted to help." Arthur looked away from the blue form to meet Jecra's glare. "Is that something wrong? I couldn't just let him die!"

The armoured puffball remained stoic. "So now that you've healed him to perfect health, what will you do?"

"I want him to fight in the Galaxy Soldier Army," Jecra answered immediately. His fists clenched slightly, but Arthur didn't appear to have noticed. "Aren't we always looking for new recruits?"

The puffball sat at the table sighed, sliding his feet off the wooden surface and getting to his feet wearily. Even though he was now on the same level as them, there was still the air of superiority around him. Even when he irritably pushed aside his cape, there was something there that wasn't in anyone else.

"If you were a Star Warrior with the rightful status, you would have accepted him in a heartbeat, wouldn't you?"

A Star Warrior? What did the puffball species have to do with accepting him? And what did he mean by 'with the rightful status'? Everyone would give him the same hostile approach as Lancelot and that messenger. The blue puffball kept the questions to himself, watching the other one of his species amble towards them.

"Sir Hector's been on his mission for quite some time, but you shouldn't really be picking up whatever recruits you can find. Vices shouldn't set that impression." The green plume on his golden helmet swung from side to side as Arthur shook his head solemnly. "Remind me again where you found him, Jecra."

The warrior hesitated slightly. Why did he need reminding again? "Larpez."

The mauve orbs glimmered. "That's a pretty barren planet, isn't it? Now tell me why a puffball just woken up would go there, considering there are more dangerous demon beasts the starship should have detected on plenty of other planets?"

Judging by the tone Arthur used, Jecra assumed the question was one that didn't require an answer and remained silent. Keeping his profile forwards, he shifted his gaze towards the blue puffball and offered a reassuring expression. It didn't seem to ease him, since Arthur had now rounded onto him.

"Do you have a name, at least?" Arthur demanded, finally addressing the Star Warrior and moving a thumb onto his sword's hilt, which was hanging loosely on his side. Nothing too obvious, but the subtle action proved to be one of caution. His tone and the way his eyes hardened made everything apparent – he was prepared if anything went out of hand.

He needed to be cautious as well. He could see Jecra out of the corner of his eyes, his eyelids pressed together slightly as he held his breath. He was going to have to tackle this himself.

"…No," the puffball answered as he forced himself to look into Arthur's light eyes. There was something about them he didn't like – was it the way they seemed to search him, or was it the way they seemed to cloud, hiding his real emotions?

The armoured puffball laughed derisively, making the yellow eyed puffball recoil involuntarily. "No matter," he brushed aside in a tone which said otherwise. "How about where you come from?"

"I don't know that either." He saw Jecra's shoulders sag slightly, as if he had just said the wrong answer. As if there was something he was missing. Then he understood. "Sir," he quickly added.

Jecra exhaled slowly, grinning. One word could affect Arthur's opinion a lot. "Sir," he addressed, raising his head. "Please let him join!"

Arthur tilted his head slightly at Jecra's remark. "You've got to be joking! There's no way I'm having someone who probably can't even pass the survival test join my Army. He'd die in less than a second." He raised a hand to his temple abruptly, as if he had just received a massive migraine.

"We can train him up," Jecra reasoned, taking a few small steps towards his boss. "I'll train him up, I'll make him an asset to the team!"

Arthur, still rubbing his head, laughed again. It was gentler this time, as if he was laughing to pass the time rather than to taunt them. Once he had finished, he tapped his chin pensively, thoughts running through his mind.

"Are you that serious?" he asked gently.

"Yes Sir."

"You want to take full responsibility for him?"

"Yes Sir."

Even under the helmet, the armoured puffball's grin was still visible in his eyes. Somehow, the atmosphere had become lighter as Arthur pointed an index finger at Jecra. This bold action was very different to his composed and intimidating attitude from before. "Very well, Jecra. But if there's one tiny thing about him I don't like, he's out. Do I make myself clear?"

Jecra failed to hide his smile. "Yes Sir!"

Arthur turned to the silent puffball. "I bet I've set a wonderful impression on you." The sentence seemed to hang as the leader looked up and down the other. "Meta Knight suits you pretty well."

"Meta Knight?" It wasn't just one voice which called out, but two. One was of confusion, the other was of disbelief. But they were both equally curious in Arthur's response, who was unfazed by the commotion.

"If you don't have a name, you're not going to get very far." The puffball adjusted his metal shoulder pad distractedly, as if it was normal for him to leave his audience waiting. "That was something that came off the top of my head."

Jecra shook his head, laughing slightly. "You always do this, Sir. One joke before the real answer."

Arthur's eyes widened. "I never knew I did that," he commented in mock wonderment, amused at Jecra's observation. The amiable tone he used was so different to his previous manner, and the tone in his voice did not stem from gloat, but genuine amusement. "Knight is the default suffix for any Star Warrior, even you, Jecra. Meta was the name I wanted to give my son before Morgan died."

Jecra gave him a sympathetic look. Morgan seemed to be an important person to him, and the topic of her death seemed to be nothing that should be elaborated. It was obvious when Arthur quickly changed the subject.

"I'm sorry about my bad mood earlier – this paperwork's a mess, the whole galaxy's a mess and I just felt sour when Jecra interrupted me." Arthur brought a hand on the puffball's shoulder. Somehow, he didn't feel inclined to pull away, like how he had with Jecra.

He didn't know how much it hurt the other warrior, or even if it did, but he didn't want to know. There was something about Arthur that he felt more of a connection with. His own mouth was slightly open, but he didn't know why. He could see every detail on Arthur's helmet, from the engravings to the faint smears of colours.

"We'll talk more once that lot's all over and done with." He motioned to the pile on the table with a gloved hand, smiling apologetically. "I know you have a lot of queries, but for the time being, just get acquainted to the Army. Talk to people, learn everything about yourself, learn your weapon." He nodded once he decided that was all the advice he had, then turned to his other guest. "Jecra, you know what to do."

The warrior nodded. "Sir." He turned his head towards the puffball now part of the Army, his eyes through the slits shining with excitement. "Come on, Meta Knight."

He turned on his heel and opened the door wide for his subordinate. He glanced to see whether the puffball was following, but saw he was looking into his hands absently. He tried to catch his eye, but he didn't seem to notice.

He remained where he was.

"Meta Knight's...my name now," he mused, more to himself than to anyone else. Jecra and Arthur exchanged looks, both aware the puffball with no name was in the stage of accepting himself. The latter made his way towards the shelves with the scrolls, removing the ribbon of one. The former waited by the door, still holding it open.

The blue puffball looked up from his hands as Meta Knight, not as a nothing. Something as simple as a name – he could embrace it until his last breath and know that it was rightfully his. Just those two words meant a lot to anyone...and himself.

**-- End --**

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**A/N: **And that's how Meta Knight got his name. So, taking into consideration of the whole Knight thing, it'll be Jecra Knight and Arthur Knight. And now, I won't have to keep referring him as a blue puffball as much :)

Have any questions or comments? Please leave a review on what you thought (particularly on my characterisations on Lancelot and Arthur, please!), any questions and any constructive criticism!


	4. Gaining Knowledge, Metal and Trust

**A/N: **Can you believe it? I didn't update a _single _story in September :o Now that is terrible!

I've a lot to fit in these chapters, so bear with me, okay? Trust me, I have _so _many ideas for later chapters, but this is going very slowly, the amount of things I have to sort out.

Main thing: Introduction of Palamedes! Once again, official Star Warrior with official colour scheme (sorta), but I assigned his name and character. He's…not exactly the role model, just so you know. Do _not_ follow his example, okay? And pronunciation doesn't matter with his name or Lance's, since either way, they don't sound like a disease. If you look on my dA journal, there's a coloured version of him I did myself, so please use that whilst imagining any Star Warrior, okay? I plan to colour as I go :)

And by the way, this has _a lot _of explaining, so please don't rush reading – it's a lot of info, I know, but it's necessary. Hope I haven't discouraged you!

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**-- Chapter 4: Gaining Knowledge, Metal and Trust --**

Jecra gave an impressed whistle as he closed the door behind him.

"Looks like you passed the test," he mused, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm surprised he wouldn't let you try the survival test, no questions asked."

The puffball looked up from his hands. "Seems like everyone knows my incapability."

"Come on, don't say it like that." He beamed under his mask, one hand clapping onto Meta Knight's shoulder. "I blabbed to Lance, I admit that, but Sir Arthur's from another planet. Quite literally."

Meta Knight glanced at the warrior's hand still on his shoulder. It felt far from comforting, but he didn't feel the urge to shrug him off. Perhaps it was the way the hand was on the shoulder further away from Jecra, that there seemed to be a somewhat reassuring pull that brought him closer. Or he was imagining it, in a desperate frame of mind when he wanted nothing more than moral support.

"Since you're now part of the Army, guess we should pay a visit to the armoury."

"I have a few questions," Meta Knight blurted out, trying to sound as polite as possible in his hurry. "May you answer a few on the way?"

The Star Warrior lifted his chin slightly. "I don't see why not. I have a feeling no one else will answer you quite as readily anyway." Curiosity like his would drive anyone up the wall, plus the puffball needed some serious explaining.

Applying very little pressure on Meta Knight's shoulder, the warrior steered him down the stone steps so that the puffball was in front of him. It was easier to keep an eye on him this way. The last thing needed right now was an excuse for Arthur to kick him out already.

Meta Knight glanced backwards. "I noticed you were…different since we entered Arthur's office." He ran a hand against the inside wall, caressing its mixed texture of stone and cement. "Why was that?"

Jecra laughed lightly, tilting his head slightly to look out the open archway to the grounds below. "You better watch your mouth with what you say." He withdrew his hand and brought it to his mask, adjusting it slightly.

Ever since they had met, Meta Knight held no genuine interest in what Jecra looked like underneath. He had simply accepted it as something he shouldn't see. But there was the slightest pang of disappointment as Jecra ran his hand through his hair instead. As though there was some part of him hoping the warrior in front of him would reveal himself what he really was. Ordinary or demon beast.

"Sir Arthur is my boss' boss, you could say. And he's also yours, so keep his title," Jecra pointed out. He waited for Meta Knight to nod before continuing. "He's very unpredictable with his constant mood swings, so it's best to approach him as prepared as possible at first. Once you get him to behave normally again, then things get easier. Must be from the workload the seniors get. All three of them are the same…"

The puffball turned round fully, walking down the stairs backwards. "So is Sir Arthur the leader of the GSA? What do you mean by 'all three'? What is the GSA? What's a Star Warrior?" The questions were pouring out of him, one rushing thought after the other. He could barely keep track of them, just saying out loud all the confusion he had encountered since the meeting with Arthur. He needed answers desperately.

Jecra grinned. "Hey, you're trying to learn everything at once here! I'd be very surprised if you remember everything I say." He rubbed his wrist tiredly, gazing back at the puffball again. "I'll do my best anyway," he said resignedly.

Meta Knight's amber eyes glimmered hopefully.

"The Army consists of eighteen squadrons, all of which have around fifty members. We're in Squadron Nine, in case you're interested," he added as a side note when the puffball opened his mouth to ask. "Every squadron's lead by a Star Warrior, and there are Vices, also Star Warriors, within the squadrons in case the first one's on a mission or dies. A Star Warrior's someone whom is born rather than trained, said to possess more power than anyone: the destiny to protect the universe."

The puffball pouted slightly as he tried to make sense of the explanation. "So a natural Star Warrior's born, and is then placed in charge of a squadron?"

Shaking his head, Jecra struggled to find his words. "Star Warriors are trained first, then after knowing how things work, the title as a Squadron leader, or Star Warrior _with status _is offered." He had apparent distaste for the suffix, for his nose wrinkled in revulsion and the harsh tone of irritation was noticeable.

"You're a Vice?" Meta Knight questioned next to confirm Jecra's position. It proved to be futile, for Jecra simply looked past him and ignored the query. He couldn't tell what he was supposed to do, so he simply averted his gaze to the tiles, placing one foot behind the other.

"Then there are three Star Warriors on top of the others, who have their own squadrons to lead in addition: Sir Arthur, Sir Dragato and Sir Quintus," the soldier continued, his eyes gazing up at the ceiling. "Sir Arthur's in charge of markets, so he makes sure other planets and the Army have decent weapons, resources and rations. He also sorts out current affairs in the Army, such as replacing leaders and the recruiting."

The blue puffball hit the bottom of the stairwell, and remained there for the other warrior to take the lead.

"Sir Dragato's in charge of defence," Jecra continued, passing Meta Knight to continue down the hallway. His cape brushed against the puffball's side, but he didn't seem to mind. "He sets up forces for the protection of heavily affected planets or ones which are likely to be attacked next."

The Star Warrior hurried to his mentor's side. "From the demon beasts?"

His eyes shifted uncomfortably, before replying, "You could say that." He took a left turn, which led off into a veranda.

There were shouts audible as a group of warriors was under the strenuous training of press-ups. Other soldiers were running round the greenery or sparring with partners, using their various weapons in so many different ways. Each movement flowed into the next, the grace in the fury prominent. He failed to notice the warm afternoon air as the sunlight seeped in between the columns.

"Over there's the garage," Jecra commented, pointing to another building set off from the main block. Its colour of faint yellow was apparent against the grass, the tin roof jutting out slightly as though it had suffered from a number of attacks. "That's where your starship would be, should you need it."

Meta Knight's eyes narrowed. It was incredibly suspicious how Jecra had told him where his starship was, considering the fact he didn't ask. It was as if the warrior was indirectly hoping he would leave. But his expression of relaxation seemed to cancel out all his doubts. Perhaps he was just showing everything to be courteous rather than anything more.

"And Sir Quintus? What's he in charge of?"

Jecra laughed. "Interestingly enough, he's our tactician. Quite ironic, considering he has no arms. He has to have a scribe with him when he needs to write down military tactics."

He continued down the veranda, the puffball in his wake. At a loss for what to say, Meta Knight kept his unclear thoughts to himself. His opinion on Jecra were still too hazy.

They proceeded down corridors of stone and sealed doors which branched off to various, unknown rooms. The shouts of soldiers died down, the air evaporating with it as they entered an archway at the other end of the veranda.

"You mentioned demon beasts were part of the problem," Meta Knight suddenly spoke up, taking the corners of his cape and wrapping it round himself as the temperature dropped gradually. "Is there something more?"

The warrior paused in his tracks. Turning round slowly, his previously warm eyes were filled with a somewhat sombre expression.

"Demon beasts aren't brought to attack us by their own nature. They aren't naturally born either," he began, avoiding the Star Warrior's gaze. "They are created by the Holy NightMare Co. and are raised to do their bidding of world domination."

Meta Knight grimaced. "No one can have world domination. Is that what the GSA is fighting against? Holy NightMare Co.?"

Jecra shook his head slowly, his uncertainty clearer than ever. "It's not HNM that's the problem, but rather the tyrant of the organisation: Nightmare."

After hearing the word 'Nightmare', something in Meta Knight tingled with familiarity. There was something about Holy NightMare and Nightmare that were both recognisable, but he couldn't tell how or why. Why was it that he couldn't remember? What was it about the two that was so important?

He didn't dare voice his confusion in front of Jecra. There was something there that said even he wouldn't be able to help. Instead, he pulled his cloak tighter to himself.

"Come on, the armoury isn't that scary," the warrior joked, placing a hand on the door handle. It was apparent the topic of Nightmare wasn't the true reason why Jecra had stopped.

Meta Knight obediently lowered his cloak slightly, but he didn't loosen his grip on it. It was somehow very reassuring leaving his hands there.

The eyes through Jecra's mask crinkled in amusement. "Just thinking every puffball looks like you makes me laugh. Though, if you smiled once in a while, I bet you would look a thousand times as innocent."

The puffball averted his gaze, caught off guard about the sudden statement. Compared to the workings of the GSA, the topic seemed light-hearted and casual. "If you were in my position, you wouldn't be smiling either."

"I know everything will need a bit of getting used to," Jecra commented sympathetically, "but you'll get used to it in the end. You're gonna fit right in."

He pushed the handle down and let the door swing open. Placing a finger on Meta Knight's shoulder again, he directed him gently into the room.

The armoury was lined with weapons of different sizes along the wall. Some bits were even on the floor. The roughness of the tiles made his feet itch, and the sharpness of each blade made him grip his cloak tighter. It reminded him how defenceless he was. He had to do everything to restrain himself from grabbing the nearest sword from its hook.

"Sir Palamedes," Jecra suddenly acknowledged, briskly ambling to the counter he failed to notice in the far end of the room. A round figure, which Meta Knight had mistook for a club, jerked his head up.

The warrior was clad in brown armour, which covered his whole body save for a t-shaped hole, where two solid white eyes were. His warpstar was set above the eyes, and a deep purple plume stuck out of his armour. The leather cross kept his shoulder plates secure, and, from the looks of the prodding hilt, it appeared to hold the sword as well.

"Good to see you here, Jecra. This the newbie?" His platinum eyes shifted slightly to the puffball, who was kicking a knife aside to approach the counter cautiously.

He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he set down the sword he was sharpening and walked round the table, running his hands over the metal surface. His faint brown cape fluttered behind him as he advanced towards Meta Knight.

"As you know, I'm Sir Palamedes. The blacksmith to newbies like yourself." He squatted himself down mildly, trying to get eye contact with the puffball. "Who are you?" he asked, apparently used to this sort of behaviour.

Still not looking at him, the Star Warrior stated, "Meta Knight". When he looked at Jecra, he simply nodded in encouragement. He never really valued Jecra's presence until now – there was that sense of support he carried with him, and the fact he had been there all this time only made it stronger.

Compared to Palamedes, Jecra was the one that made him feel reassured.

Palamedes folded his arms. "Don't see many puffballs, you know," he mused, briefly scanning Meta Knight, who had now decided to take slight interest in him. "What you need is a helmet."

"No helmet, Sir!"

Meta Knight was thankful for Jecra's sudden outburst. It would have been difficult to put a helmet over his cape, for the cape was part of him. It would have been hard to explain that without revealing his wings.

The blacksmith laughed wryly. "Must have taken a liking to Falspar already," he commented, turning on his heel towards the counter again. He touched a concealed button on the counter gently, then vanished from sight through the archway which had appeared.

"He means Sir Falspar. He has this terribly wrong assumption that he's the boss, so we all decided one day to let him live his dream rather than interfere with it. He's a bit full of himself, if you get my drift."

Meta Knight didn't 'get his drift'. It was an Army, and it was natural for some members not to respect the system. And he gathered Palamedes was a Squadron leader himself, and status like that would make certain people arrogant. Did that mean he looked down upon other Star Warriors?

Palamedes returned into the room, holding a mask and shoulder plates. "I've been waiting a long time to get rid of these." He held up the mask for both to see.

It was small, and it was lucky if it could cover his eyes at all. The eye hole was one solid line, and the ends of the mask flicked off at the edges. It had a golden trim, but that was the only sense of colour – the rest was dull grey.

"A normal mask, Sir," Jecra spat.

Palamedes waited for Meta Knight's response, clearly not interested in the warrior's order. The puffball looked past the mask at the shoulder plates. Both matched the mask, with its golden trim and curved ends. There was a slight bump where the shoulders were, which he presumed, allowed the maximum movement.

"The shoulder plates are good," he chose to reply, hoping the comment was enough.

The blacksmith gave a reproachful snort. "You puffballs are just as self-centred as the next." Dumping the shoulder plates on the counter, he disappeared once again to the unknown part of the armoury.

Jecra gave a half-hearted smile. The puffball was getting used to when the warrior smiled. There was that shimmer in his eyes, and the ends seemed to crinkle in amusement. "Back there is where Sir Palamedes forges masks, helmets and warpstars for new recruits."

"Forges warpstars?" He must have heard it wrong. Nothing as complicated as the warpstar could be forged. As well as it being something puffballs are born with, it was something more important – their life.

"Everyone has one, as a sort of emblem," Jecra began to explain, making sure his voice was kept low. He pointed to his own on his chest, set right in the middle of his armour, under the locket which hung round his neck. "It's just a shape, with none of its mystical powers or anything. Even he isn't brilliant enough to do that." He jerked his head towards the archway.

Meta Knight felt relieved, somehow. But there was one thing he still needed to know. "Where's mine?"

Jecra made his way towards the counter and picked up the shoulder plates, evidently doing his best to ignore Meta Knight's demand. "The thing I love about warpstars is that they're magnetic." Careful not to tread on any scattered weapons, he gradually approached Meta Knight. "Since you're a puffball, I have to stress the importance of warpstar trades."

"Trades?" Meta Knight questioned. There were so many traditions and systems in the Army. Learning everything about the Army had to be the first step before stepping into the world – trusting Jecra was the quickest way to get there.

He had fed him with the necessary information, and there was that sense of knowing that ensured he wasn't lying or not telling the whole story. His mentor could have been someone more conceited like Palamedes. For once, he was thankful Jecra was around, right from the beginning.

The warrior moved to one side of the puffball to secure the shoulder plate. Impressively, the coldness of metal didn't make him jump. "As a sign of trust, we exchange the warpstars. But the real purpose is to ensure the safety of…whatever your race is." He went round to the other side of the puffball, the second shoulder plate still in his hands. "Should you get abducted or something, your life is still safe, since you would have put the warpstar somewhere other than yourself."

"How do I know who to trust?"

There was a noticeable pause, before Jecra gave the firm answer, "You'll know."

As if by rehearsal, Palamedes returned with a different mask from before. It was circular, and had the silvery touch to it. The eye hole formed a v-shape, and two folds were above each eye. Weaving his way past the weapons, Palamedes fiddled with the leather strap around the mask and unfastened it.

"This should be a perfect fit," he muttered, almost sullenly. He tied the mask around the blue puffball, still holding onto one part of the leather and slotted it through a bridge in the mask. It was a strange feeling – the heat from the mask burned him, but he somehow felt immune to it. As though the hiding was more important than his own health. "I'll fit a scabbard on once you've gotten used to your sword – I can tell you're a swordsman."

Jecra's eyes followed him as he grabbed a rapier from the wall. "You're looking more like a soldier now."

He didn't know what had caused it. Whether it was the comfort of the mask or Jecra's words, he felt the corners of his mouth turn as he gave a small smile.

**-- End --**

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**A/N: **Right, if you have a question, please don't hesitate to ask! I know there's a lot of things to understand, and the whole idea that Meta's finally gotten his mask – after 4 chapters

Also, there's a competition on my dA journal, for those who feel like contributing directly to my fic in some way, whether that's the voting (how is still pending) or the designing itself :)

Either way, hope you enjoyed it and please leave a review! :)


	5. Saying the Wrong Things

**A/N: **Sorry for the long update, both in terms of time and length! This one turned out pretty well, once I got into the swing of things. And, just to warn you, it _is _gruesome. I know, gore already! But it is very necessary, I'm afraid. I can't actually believe I wrote this, but it was kinda interesting.

But anyway, hope you…enjoy? Maybe those who like horror, but for those more squeamish, I warned you. I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill, aren't I?

Oh, and Clive, Vivian and Malcolm belong to me. Yup, all mine! Explains why the three lack so much creativity…

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**-- Chapter 5: Saying the Wrong Things --**

The training ground was still bustling with activity, exactly as they had left them. Shouts, weapons clanking, it imposed the atmosphere that it belonged to them.

Rapidly becoming a habit, Meta Knight pulled his cape around himself. However, it proved to be more difficult than before, thanks to the gloves Jecra had given him earlier from the laundry. Edging towards the pillars of the veranda, he eyed his mentor hesitantly.

"I'll only be gone for a few hours," Jecra reassured, squatting down to the puffball's height. "Lance can get pretty impatient. Here, this'll make you happier."

From the depths of his cloak, he retrieved a small star. He held it out in the palm of his hand, and the sight of it made Meta Knight's inside warm. The puffball reached out a hand, half expecting Jecra to snatch it away, but he was able to take the star and place it on his shoulder plate without such a trick.

He was in charge of his own life now.

"As far as I know, no one knows about the wings yet. Keep them hidden, and don't reveal them. To _anyone_. No matter what happens." Jecra's eyes shone proudly, contrasting enormously to the puffball's hesitant ones. "You'll do fine, I promise you."

Meta Knight's eyes darted towards the group who were running some distance away, even pace with each other and gradually getting smaller. "I go down that end of the field and make a friend?" He pouted, but it went unnoticed. The mask had that effect.

"That's pretty much the plan," Jecra admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Our squadron's not the most organised thanks to Hector's departure, but it's still decent."

The puffball was still unconvinced. "I thought you were the Vice. Aren't you going to take charge?"

He was expecting a laugh, a smile, something that added to his usual light-hearted character. However, just like last time, Jecra's clouded eyes turned away and remained silent about the subject. Evidently, his responsibility was the wrong thing to question.

"You remember the way to the hall?" Jecra asked to his feet, which were inches from the sword Meta Knight had dropped when he heard about the separation at hand. "First right, third left and the rest of it?"

Meta Knight nodded, still feeling guilty about the accusation.

The soldier looked up again, his grin reaching his eyes. In that simple smile, it was as if the tension had dissolved very slightly. However, Meta Knight knew the man in front of him was still aloof.

"That's the spirit," the warrior encouraged, even though the puffball had done nothing outstanding. "Just…stay out of trouble, or my neck's on the line. You're my responsibility, remember?"

He rolled his eyes as an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but both Star Warriors knew it was futile.

Jecra picked up his shield propped on a pillar before turning back to the other warrior. "I'll be on my way." With a small salute, he strode down the open corridor without looking back. "And watch out for the girls! The whole lot of them are ruthless!"

Meta Knight watched Jecra's retreating back and fluttering cape as he ambled down the veranda. A small part of himself had ebbed away with the soldier. It took the puffball four whole minutes to find out what it was: the little confidence he had left.

He shunted closer to the pillar, his foot up against its cold base. He was now on his own, but things still felt alien. Leaning against it and observing the workouts, he realised how much he didn't fit in. Even though the rapier on the ground had felt perfect in his grasp, the burning feeling of isolation was there.

When he saw a pair of fighters sit to one side of the training grounds, he found that that was the best chance. Pushing himself off the wall with a foot, he made to pick up his sword.

Only to find it had disappeared.

A prick at the back of his head told him he was being watched. It was a sinister sensation, one that had become just another emotion. He was getting familiar with the feeling, and he was beginning to dislike it.

A low laugh resounded behind him, making him turn on the spot. "So, you're the newcomer?" An orange eye shimmered under the man's streaked hair. One hand fiddled with his fringe whilst his other gloved hand twirled the rapier that had been on the floor. The armour reflected the afternoon sun as he put his full weight on his matching, mossy green shoes rather than the marble. The star on his left shoulder shone the brightest.

If anything, the warrior looked like a lizard and a tiger fused in one body.

Meta Knight didn't reply. He tried to take a step backwards, only to collide into the pillar. There was something about the malice in the warrior's visible eye and his own sword in the man's hand that made him want to run.

"Name's Clive," he introduced himself, his smirk stretching from each syllable. "We need to ask you a few questions."

At the sound of 'we', Meta Knight instinctively looked behind him. There, two other soldiers were observing him. One was female, her vibrant hair tied up into a ponytail and its hair band decorated with her own warpstar. Her torso was protected by purple armour, a two-pronged spear of some kind in both her gloved hands.

But it wasn't her he recognised. It was the other, smaller man who was shorter than the female. The same deep eyes, the same blue tresses and beard. The light sash round his neck and the curved sword – he remembered it all. It was the same soldier who had informed him and Jecra about Arthur at the infirmary. Except he didn't look as desperate or hurried as before.

As if it had been an act.

Heavy footsteps made him look back at Clive, who was now running a hand over the sword and approaching him slowly. "Does she have a name?"

Thrown off by the question, there was a small delay before he shook his head. It was best to answer the man's questions and get this over and done with. He only had to hope there were few questions and that they were answerable.

"Of course you wouldn't give her one. Naming weapons is sad." Clive was now directly above him, throwing the sword into each hand lightly. His other orange eye was visible at this angle under the mop of silver hair, the black stripes across it jagged than before.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Meta Knight saw the two lackeys rounding on him as well. There was only one route of escape, but with Clive over him, that path was already cut off.

Instead, he continued to glare up at the warrior defiantly, his belief that it was only a few questions dispersing. Such an amiable chat did not come through cornering.

As if he knew it was imposing, Clive bent down to the puffball's level. As he placed the sword to one side, the bang fell forwards and covered his right eye again. "Next question: Did Jecra invite you to join the Army?"

So far, the questions were simple. Soon, their real intentions will show through in flashing colours. That was the typical method of interrogation.

"Yes," the puffball replied – the first word he had said since the gang's arrival. It seemed far away, and he was surprised how much it shook.

The green armoured soldier grinned even wider, looking up at the other two triumphantly as if he had already won. "And now, tell me why you skipped the survival test. Are you some distant relative of Arthur's or something, to make him favour you?"

Before the words even processed in his head, they were out into the open. Realisation hit him just when he was unconsciously saying it, when he had just said it. It was too late to take them back. The words he knew he was going to regret.

"It's _Sir_ Arthur," Clive mimicked, his eye flaring passionately. His hand clenched, and his feet shifted to one side as if he was fighting an inner demon. "_Sir _Arthur!" he repeated, distaste thick in those two words.

It happened quickly. He had no idea the warrior had even gotten up by the time he had wrenched his mask off and thrown it across the tiled veranda. The metal clattered on the stone a good distance away, but that was the least of Meta Knight's worries.

He looked up to find his own sword near his face, the blade hovering over his left eye. Past the metal, the soldier's eye had widened crazily. There were hints of red in the iris, flaming vehemently.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but _I'm _the boss here. Arthur's not going to do anything about it." The sword drifted between the eyes, as if it was caught in the breeze. "The only way to make a blind man see…"

A voice shouted in pain. Meta Knight was aware it was his own, but it seemed too distant that he momentarily believed it was someone else. However, there was the sight of red that confirmed what had happened. Even though he couldn't see it, he could feel the blood from his eye fall down his arm, dampening his pristine glove and splattering the tiles.

Through his normal eye, he could still see the sword running down one side. The tip was hidden, presumably stuck in his socket in a frozen second of the incident.

On the reflection of the sword, Clive's smirk etched itself into his mind. Somehow, that very grin was a reminder of something he once knew. "Is to harm his sight even more," he completed.

In one swift movement, he pulled out the sword. The nerves in his eye screamed as the blade wove its way out, making the puffball bring a hand to his wounded eye. He caught a quick glimpse of more blood before the hand had disappeared from view. There were still faint smears on his arm though – he couldn't avoid seeing the liquid, wherever he turned.

"Maybe you should call your sword Sanguine," Clive mused playfully, bringing the tip of the sword to his own face. Almost half of the blade was scarlet. "The first blood it draws is your own. How ironic." He blinked slowly. "Can you see better?"

It was then the female rested a hand on Clive's arm. Her grey eyes looked up at his evenly. "You've done enough."

_Watch out for the girls. The whole lot of them are ruthless._

Jecra's departing words echoed in his head. If female soldiers were as cunning as he claimed they were, then he was in trouble. If this one was really the leader and only let Clive do her dirty work, he was in even deeper trouble.

The woman wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the handsome spear in her other hand. He noted she was holding it near its head for the most accuracy possible. "Never mind about the eye. You're a puffball, so it'll heal in no time." She fingered his mantle, toying with it between her thumb and her other fingers. "Could you show me those wings?"

He didn't bother asking, and there was no point denying it either. The three of them were probably already aware of the wings, eager to catch even a glimpse of them. So much for no one knowing! This had been their true purpose, and it was apparent they were not afraid to use force.

What was there to do?

He was about to get up when he felt a foot on his back. It wasn't the woman's either, since it wasn't possible at that angle. Looking up as much as he could, he saw two clumps of blue hair.

"Viv, you know he's not going to cooperate," the dark man commented, taking his curved sword out of its sheath. The light reflected from the metal ominously, creating faded patterns on the spots of blood. If it was possible, it felt like an execution. Except Clive in front of him was laughing softly rather than crying.

The woman's mouth opened as if she was going to shout at the shorter man, but she held herself back. "It's a shame, really. I thought he'd know better," she said with a thin line of regret. She glanced up at the spear's curved blade, then to the helpless puffball.

Meta Knight saw his own blood-stained sword near Clive's feet. If he could somehow reach it without the three warriors noticing, then he might have a chance. Any chance was better than nothing. The wings mustn't be shown.

"I would show them to you, but I can't," the puffball began, gathering the attention from all his attackers. The risk was overwhelming, but there was nothing more he could do in his current position. "My head must be cleared, must be empty." If they didn't buy it, it was guaranteed he wouldn't be able to reach his sword.

Clive furrowed his eyebrows. "Must be empty? So if you're half way through fighting a demon, do you have to ask for time out?" The warrior scoffed doubtfully, but regardless, looked over the puffball's head to wordlessly ask for the others' opinions. Perfect.

"Maybe that's what he means by empty," the dark skinned man reasoned, the pressure on his foot loosening a little. It was enough though. Using his left hand, the puffball inched it closer to the sword's hilt. As long as the three kept each other occupied, it would provide more than enough time. "So that all he thinks about is wings rather than fighting for survival."

The taller knight sighed doubtfully. "Do you know what you're talking about, Malcolm? You're the only one who has seen the wings, so there has to be something that forced them out in the first place. Unless you're an incompetent kind of spy?"

Just a little more.

Malcolm stroked his beard pensively. "The wings were out so the needles could be removed. I highly doubt it was acupuncture."

He was centimetres from the hilt now, but a sudden thought made him stop in his tracks. All this time, it was the men who had been squabbling. The female hadn't said a word about the problem at hand. She wasn't voicing her opinion, or whether she even believed it in the first place. Which lead down to one thing.

She wasn't buying it.

The puffball looked up, meeting with her stony gaze. Both hands were on her weapon, one finger running down the metal pole. "Viv," he muttered. She had already known his plan from the start.

It was possible to say more than one thing wrong. He had realised that now as he felt the spear's curved ends slam into his outstretched hand. He didn't cry out loud, but it was enough to make him wince. The weapon was set down very precisely – right where the tiles joined so that the pole remained where it was. Watching the blood grow in his glove made him feel sickened, so he turned away as much as possible.

"I thought you liked the sight of blood." She bent down and took a bit of the liquid onto her finger, her equally red hair falling over her face. "Why else would you have reached for the sword? You wanted to see bloodshed…"

Meta Knight twitched as the female drew spirals on his arm. With his blood. There was something about this girl that was definitely crazy. This was why Jecra had warned him previously. How many more girls were in his Squadron? Or better still, would he be able to escape the trio's clutches?

The female warrior glared into the puffball's left eye. "And it's Vivian. You're not worthy to call me Viv." Once she had finished drawing one more circle, she stood up. "If you show the wings without weaving a web of lies, I'll free your hand." She jerked her head to the spear, one hand still on its body. It was obvious she believed he would comply.

Meta Knight lowered the hand on his eye, resting it on the tiled surface. "No," he murmured, his body trembling. Seeing the bright crimson only made him aware of his weakness. And Vivian's choice of words – 'weaving a web of lies'. Spinner was his first reminder of his hopelessness. He wasn't going to keep this up. He needed to stay firm.

Malcolm's foot slid under his cape and applied more pressure than before. Meta Knight felt his face press against the flooring, his eyes widening as he saw more blood spread itself across the ground. He felt his warpstar slip off his shoulder plate and roll playfully in the ruby fluid. The ends of his cape were clenched into one of the man's hands, and the curved blade jabbed into several parts on the cape's centre.

"My power lies in my hands," Clive revealed matter-of-factly. Meta Knight looked up slightly to find his warpstar in the knight's grasp. "I wonder what'll happen if I break this?"

His life was physically in someone else's hands. There was nothing he could do, but the warpstar's shine seemed to give him a new energy. The aching in his body disappeared momentarily, but amplified as Clive's hand closed round it with increasing force.

It was hurting so badly he screamed even louder than he knew he could. His own voice wasn't distant, but it was as if his head was yelling with him. If that wasn't enough, the sword in Malcolm's right hand had now begun its journey. Even though it shouldn't have been painful, the middle being where the wings joined, the torment was unbearable. The cloak was part of him. The solid material was part of him, and every fibre that was ripped was similar to every nerve.

The pain ended. Instinct had taken over.

The dark skinned knight, now on the floor, came face to face with the leathery wings that had sprouted out. The cape had vanished without a trace, and the fingers of each wing spread out. It had been a long time since they had been released.

Meta Knight breathed heavily as he tried to get up. Every part of him ached, and his hand slipped every time he tried to find a tile that wasn't coated in blood. To her word, Vivian removed her spear from the ground, still looking up at the wings with her mouth half open. Clive merely arched an eyebrow.

The puffball flapped his wings several times to get himself onto his feet. He had spilt too much to get up safely. Limping slightly, he made his way past Vivian and picked up his sword, coating the hilt with the crimson liquid rapidly.

"You're a demon," Malcolm finally said, cleaning his sword on a glove. His arm had a shallow gash in it, where the wings must have made contact.

Clive nodded in agreement slowly. "Only a demon could hide their wings and have such an animalistic nature." His eyes narrowed, and he swept past the puffball to the training area. Without another word, Malcolm followed suit.

The final knight wasn't so easily dismissed. She watched the puffball amble to his mask, looking down all the way. His wings folded, the spikes on each unit bending down slightly. The base of the wings seemed to stretch a small cut there, and the spikes folded into the component like a balloon. The ends compressed into each other and flattened out, the cotton of the cape returning.

Meta Knight picked up his mask using the injured hand. Pain seared through the arm, but he didn't feel the need to even recoil.

"Your eyes turned red, back then." Vivian looked away. "What are you?"

The puffball turned to the spot where he originally wanted to go before the whole scenario. Where the two warriors had sat after their training. He was disheartened when he found it was empty, but there was a small part of him that already knew they had gone. Had they left him to suffer since they didn't know what to do? Or did they not see him at all?

He heard Vivian leave. Perhaps it was better that way.

He was a thing, not a person. A what, an it. That was the truth. Normal beings didn't change eye colours or have wings they could hide. Maybe even wings in the first place. He glanced over to the training grounds, where fewer people were training now. It was likely they had all gone to the hall, like Jecra said they will meet up in a few hours.

"I'm…a demon." Deep inside himself, he felt something awaken. It was small, but he felt it.

**-- End --**

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**A/N: **-slaps face- I didn't mean to make it this long! And so gory and at a sort of cliff hanger! Oh well, I'm mean like that ;p If you want to see the three's design, it'll be up on my deviantART page in a few minutes, hours maybe.

Sorry for the long update again, and hope you liked it! Please let me know what you thought of it!


	6. At the Crossroads

**A/N: **Right, there is a continuation of blood here and a little swearing, so read so long as you are aware of those two facts.

Palamedes' helmetless design was done by LazloTitan and can be seen from a link on my profile, so look there for more visual information. And, to make things clearer, his distaste in puffballs is made more apparent. I am also colouring the official art as I go along, so check out my profile once again for Squadron leaders.

Tristan is DalSifoDyas' design and can also be seen on my profile if you wade a little. Other than that, name assignation and position is mine ^^ Oh, and Lance's helmetless design's all my own!

And introduction of Quintus! Not my design – all HAL. Though his personality's mine. Whilst his introduction may seem insignificant, his _two _words are very important later on.

So, hope you got all that and have fun reading, hopefully!

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**-- Chapter 6: At the Crossroads --**

The sensation of realisation was slight. It was as if it was only half the information; that the puzzle was still incomplete but some pieces were given to mock him. There had to be some way it linked to his existence, but all the ideas he had thought of remained scattered and disorganised.

Setting his sword down, Meta Knight did his best to tie his mask back on without putting blood on its face. The strap felt damp and he felt the liquid run from his eye and onto the inside of the metal, but it didn't matter. It felt safer having his lost expression separated from the outside world.

He held out his hands so that they were in plain view of his working eye. The left hand had a gash almost completely through the flesh, however both were equally scarlet, flashing in the wavering sunlight. As he picked up his sword again, he encrusted the hilt once more.

He needed to find Jecra.

Just then, a tiny flicker caught the puffball's eye. Moving his head to each side, the glimmer continued to intrigue him. Taking hesitant steps, he approached the small light with his sword raised minutely. He soon lowered it when the source was clear.

A rare smile formed as Meta Knight snatched the star from the grass. He held it to eye level, taking in the euphoria that emanated from it. He didn't know what made Clive leave it behind, but he didn't take the time to think about it. The hope returned to him like ambrosia, determination washing over him gleefully.

After a few more seconds, the star was placed on one shoulder plate, bloody side down. Gazing back at his stained gloves, his eyes saddened. It was becoming a sight to get used to, but it was still something that haunted him. Being on the brink of war, it only served as a reminder for hard battles to come.

The Star Warrior grabbed hold of each corner of his cape and pulled it round himself. It made him feel that tiny bit more secure. Ensuring the sword's blade didn't prod out or bang against, his side, he made his way to the hall following Jecra's instructions.

Half way down the third left, he noticed how the blood didn't soak through the cloak's material. It must be because the garment wasn't what it appeared to be, only heightening his demonic attributions.

Several minutes later, the rumbling of many voices and flocking soldiers told him he was nearby. Turning the next corner, he spotted a pair of armour-clad foot soldiers by large brown doors, as his friend had said. Waiting for a pair to enter first, he followed suit.

If the veranda was exquisite with its colonnade, the hall was appalling. The ceiling was caving in slightly, and the various broken pillars did not appear to be of marble. Tables were crammed closely together, and the warriors seated at them did not complain as their shoulders banged into each other on a regular basis.

His unspoken question of 'How am I meant to find him?' was quickly answered.

A tall man stood up and waved lazily, towering above all the other soldiers as they weaved to their tables. Meta Knight couldn't recognise the shoulder-length brown hair or amethyst horns on either side of the man's head, but his armour gave away his identity. If that wasn't enough, his placid crimson eyes under his bangs certainly did.

The puffball's eyes travelled downwards, and the spiky blonde hair made his heart leap. As he ambled carefully past diners and sheathed weapons, he saw Lance sit back down with difficulty from his long legs. He was still trying to cross them when Meta Knight was directly opposite him.

"Cutting it fine, eh?" Jecra tilted his head to one side, grinning from ear to ear. His face was exactly how he imagined him, save for the thick eyebrows and the two strands that fell over his forehead. The same eyes, the same grin. "They were closing the doors in five."

He scooted across to give the puffball room to sit down by him, consequently hitting the warrior next to him. The apparent look of annoyance met Jecra's ecstatic expression. Shaking his head, the unnamed warrior returned to his meal.

Gingerly, Meta Knight took the small space. Putting the sword to one side, he had the uncanny feeling someone was watching his every move. He lifted his gaze. Lance's ill blue face remained blank as he made no move to hide his guilt, his eyes travelling from the cape's corner to the puffball's amber eyes. The headband across his forehead peeked under his bangs, a curved cross meeting at its centre.

Jecra's words broke the tension. "Guess that means _you _was having fun at least."

If Lance was sceptical of that statement, his tone of voice didn't show it. "You were grinning all the way," he said, eyes still cold. By looking at his eyes, Meta Knight noticed how the pupils hovered slightly above the bottom eyelid.

"It was hilarious, you've got to admit that," Jecra protested, waving his hand amiably.

There was a small pause, before the other knight replied, "You're contradicting yourself."

The man on Lance's right snickered. It had only clicked then that he was with them, even though his body seemed twisted away from them. A scar ran down one eye, and Palamedes' light grey eyes were sunken into his pallid flesh. One side of his hair was swept with a dash of white, whilst the other was a contrasting shade of black. "He got you there."

Jecra pouted, clearly wound up. "Why are you both so…" He circled his wrists as he tried to find the right word. Discovering he couldn't find one, he said instead, "Oh, sod it."

The Vice turned his head to Meta Knight and clung to the navy cloak amicably. Meta Knight's eyes widened, the blood from the right one trickling down his face like tears. He was afraid Jecra would smell the stench, but he was seemingly oblivious to it.

"This is why he's my favourite rather than the pair of you put together." He stuck his tongue out immaturely, which only made Lance blink and Palamedes drum the table impatiently. Jecra gave his full attention to the puffball. "I got your rations for you. Go on, try."

To demonstrate, Lance raised his chopsticks with a three-fingered hand and lifted the noodles from the bowl. Meta Knight cringed as the warrior slurped the noodles, as though he was making as much noise as possible.

"You're meant to make a sound," Palamedes explained at the sight of the puffball's disgusted expression. His tone was dripping in haughtiness.

He looked down at his own bowl, the contents swimming in hot water and emitting soft puffs of steam. "Not after watching that and the meal's appearance." That was the truth, and the fact he didn't want to show his blood-stained face on top of that.

To his surprise, Jecra laughed. "I know what you mean. Lucan's food tastes like sh--"

"Jecra!" Lance exclaimed sternly to cut the sentence – the first time he had done so in both fields.

The knight in question realised, then shut his mouth. He soon opened it again in horror, eyes widening. "Oh no, is it because you have to be spoon-fed?"

Meta Knight closed his eyes. "Of course not. That sort of thing's already there."

The Vice exhaled in relief. "Good. Feeding Joe was a pain, I hope you know." As soon as he said those words, Jecra's eyes misted up again. He fell silent, opting to eat his noodles. The puffball looked up at the horned knight guiltily, but he simply shrugged.

Fortunately, the blonde man spluttered on his first mouthful as a loud crash echoed in the hall. All the diners looked up from their food, including the foursome, to where the sound had come from.

A puffball, it appeared, hovered by the doors. His pale, feathered wings flapped mildly, his deep purple feet still poised in the dynamic pose of kicking the door open. It was evident it was necessary, thanks to the absence of arms and no foot soldiers by the entrance. Emerald eyes skimmed through the crowd under two edges of the five-pointed star on his face, his warp star secured at the top spoke. There was no other person it could be except Sir Quintus, the tactician of the GSA.

His eyes rested on Meta Knight, and swiftly flew over to the four. As he did so, curious gossip was whispered in his wake.

"Evening, Sir," Palamedes acknowledged for all of them, albeit more mulishly. The rest were lost were words, Jecra avoiding his look altogether. "Tristan's over there." The bulky man jerked his head further down the hall, but the winged puffball merely looked up and made no effort to move.

Instead, he returned his gaze to the other puffball, who brought his cape closer to himself. Maskless, the two of them were extremely similar. Quintus' eyes narrowed.

"You reek," he said bluntly, before gliding away to another soldier, who was presumably Tristan. Once a few words were uttered, Quintus soured over the heads of warriors straight to the double doors with one flap of his wings. For Tristan, it wasn't such an easy trip. The bald man had several scrolls in his arms, impeding his view a great deal and causing him to elbow soldiers' heads on more than one occasion.

Once the double doors had closed, conversation erupted all at once.

However, it was Lance who spoke first rather than Jecra. "At last, someone agrees with me." As he set down his chopsticks, the deep burn on the hand was made clear, its shape identical to the cross on his forehead. He reached it out over the table, giving a pointed look.

Meta Knight didn't hesitate. There was no use covering the inevitable now. He took both hands from the folds of his cape and displayed them shyly over the table. Unfazed, Lance took the left hand into his grasp.

"Bloody hell! Sure that applies pretty literally, but what the hell happened?" Jecra slammed a hand onto the table, eyes vibrant with anger and betrayal. The puffball offered a guilty smile, wincing as Lance turned the gloved hand over and ran a finger over the gash.

Palamedes rolled his eyes. "Bloody puffballs," he muttered in annoyance.

Evidently, he wasn't quiet enough. Jecra glared at him, his cheeks flustering as his anger continued to accumulate. He pointed an accusing finger at the Squadron leader. "You bloody shut up!"

Leaving the Star Warrior speechless with his mouth hung open, the furious soldier raised his prominent eyebrows expectantly.

"Clive, Malcolm and Vivian did it," he told the Vice. He was in no hurry to forget names. "They wanted to find out about…" He stopped when he caught sight of Palamedes' curious gaze. It was apparent he didn't know about the wings.

"And did you…?" the Vice pressed, his anger replaced quickly by worry.

Awkwardly, Meta Knight nodded.

The horned man opposite him narrowed his eyes. "Any other injuries?" It was impressive how Lance had said himself in their first encounter that he wasn't into medicine, yet he was the one displaying that form of concern.

Withdrawing his hands, he fiddled with the mask's clasp. It was hard to take off, since his hands were trembling.

"Shit, and I thought it couldn't get worse!" Jecra shouted, shielding his eyes at the state of the puffball's face. Heads raised once again, but they dismissed it soon afterwards. Palamedes' mouth hung open even more, and even Lance's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Meta Knight brought his mask to hide his face again, but Jecra forced the mask down.

His eyes searched him up and down. It was then that the puffball realised the warrior's eyes were a mixture of purple and red rather than black, as he had thought. "Whatever the case, we can't stay here." He turned to Palamedes. "I need you to clean up the blood, wherever that may be."

Palamedes gave a cry of disbelief. "No way! Squadron leaders don't do such low work."

"Everyone has to help. It's that or take _the puffball _to the showers," Jecra reasoned smoothly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

It proved to be the right button to press. The Star Warrior got up before answering. "Fine, give it here. But I'm getting my subordinates to play Cinderella." He held out his hands, and Jecra passed the mask over to him. He removed the warpstar from Meta Knight's shoulder plate, gave a revolted look as he saw the other side and passed that to the Squadron leader too.

Lance examined the severed eye. "It should recover." His eyes shifted towards Jecra, who was unfastening the separate parts of armour. "Helping him with his problems won't make him learn anything. It's a lesson that must be taught."

The warrior looked up, almost throwing the shoulder plates into Palamedes' face. "That's heartless. If a friend's in need, you _help _them." He beckoned for the puffball to pass his sword, and he complied. "Would you do the same if it was Dame Halberd?"

Palamedes waited for the cape to be passed over, but the warrior made no move to take it off. Soon, he took his leave without another word.

The ruby eyes of Lance flashed dangerously, but his voice remained even. "It's _Sir _Halberd, and even you know she can take care of herself."

Jecra beamed triumphantly. "Oh really?" he teased.

Meta Knight looked between the two. He didn't realise just how close they were until now, regardless of the obvious signs of sparring and dining together. They seemed to understand each other extremely well, knowing exactly what the other meant. It made the puffball wonder if there was a history between them.

"Just tell me what I can do," the Squadron leader said resignedly. He had only agreed to change the subject, and even Jecra was aware of this fact.

Instead, he grinned. "You can do cartwheels, but that's not what you're asking." The warrior watched Lance try to uncross his legs. "Taking Meta Knight to the showers would be nice." His eyes squeezed shut innocently.

The horned Star Warrior got to his feet ungracefully. "And what will you do?"

Jecra offered a weak smile. "With an event like this, Sir Arthur's not going to be best pleased." He leaned to the side, one arm feeling the floor under it. Triumphantly, he drew out his sword and shield.

The shield had a very similar design to the locket around his neck, if not the same. The blue jewel set into the metal gave it an elaborative feel, reflecting every ray that seeped through the faded windows.

"Good luck," bid Lance, who had thrown his long gloves over his shoulder hastily and was having difficulty balancing his weaponry on one arm.

The Vice snickered at the sight. "Thanks. I'll see the two of you later." He turned to the puffball, pulling his mask over his face. "Meet me back in my room once you've finished."

With a wink and a salute, he turned on his heel and pushed past several soldiers without saying 'excuse me'. Once he was clear of the crowd, his cape billowed behind him as he broke into a run and disappeared into the corridor.

Meta Knight looked up at Lance, whose pensive gaze continued to watch Jecra's long-gone figure.

"You wouldn't believe it, but he's been through a lot." The horned man gave the puffball a reproachful look as he picked up his helmet. "He's unbelievably fragile, and he appears to think life in the Army's easy when the war hasn't even begun. Now that you've been made his responsibility, it's made him question his attitude. For the first time, he can look back and correct himself."

The Star Warrior chose not to reply, instead getting up without disturbing his neighbour. It was noticeable in the choice of words that past events were covered up. When he found he couldn't delay it any longer, his eyes met the Squadron leader's deadpan ones.

"If you want to be useful, don't ruin his chances by uncalled events like this."

Even though he knew Lance was playing the role of a good friend, the puffball couldn't help but harden his eyes scornfully. It wasn't his fault things like this found him. If he was given a proper chance to fit in, then perhaps his first day in the GSA wouldn't have caused so much chaos. Or, better still, he could have earned himself a sparring partner, a friend.

But no, his abnormalities were obviously much too interesting.

His anger could continue all night if he wanted to. Or he could make a difference – right here, right now.

**-- End --**

* * *

**A/N: **Yay, another chapter done and more drama to come. And it's not even the actual war yet -faints- Sorry about the overload of new characters, information, et cetera.

As for Meta's attitude problem at the end, that's the Nightmare DNA kicking in. Yup yup, he has some serious issues. And also sleeping problems, as you'll find out later on ^^ Oh my, yes. As he says, bad things constantly find him.

If you want to know about the whole Halberd issue, she is a _girl _who is…very masculine, hence why she goes by Sir Halberd rather than Dame, as she should, in reality, be. As for her relation with the ship Halberd…Hehe, you'll see ^^ I'm looking forward to writing her though!

Anyway, hope you liked it and please leave a review to let me know what you thought of it!

**Edit 22/12 - **Changed the various 'he's into Meta Knight and puffballs. Urgh, you have no idea how muc it made me cringe afterwards...How could I have checked through that and thought it was all right?


	7. Bad News Lie Where There Are Shadows

**A/N: **Let's see if it has been a month since the last update…Well, practically so. Sorry about the late update, and sorry about 'Free Hours' – that's kinda stuck at the moment. Know-what-to-say-but-can't-write-it-down disease :)

But anyway, this chapter is pretty important. Introduction of someone we all know…pretty well, actually. Well, hope you enjoy the chapter ^^

Mystery person belongs to HAL.

* * *

**-- Chapter 7: Bad News Lie Where There Are Shadows --**

Meta Knight, still furious about the accusation, bared his teeth at his only companion. One day, he'll pay for it. One day, everyone will for making a fool out of him. He just wanted to obtain the Star Warrior's secret, then send everyone to Hell's gates itself. There was nothing else keeping him here.

His hostile behaviour faded as he saw Lance turn around. It was either because of that, or because he caught his reflection on the warrior's chest plate.

Lance made no attempt to hinder his brisk walk as Meta Knight ran to catch up with him. Pensively, the Squadron leader ran a hand through his fringe, letting it rest on the cross. Mouth open a fraction, his eyes gazed upwards either in wonderment or puzzlement. It was hard to tell which. From behind, a light brown horn stuck out, its point nearly making contact with his neck.

"Um…" Meta Knight stammered, keeping a firm eye on the ground so he could match the warrior's pace. If a difference really needed to be made, now was a good place to start. Being with someone who was difficult to predict would improve his social skills enormously – he, for once, needed to make the first move.

One hand still on his headband, the tall knight acknowledged the puffball's stutter with a questioning look.

"You know everything about me," the puffball queried, eyes narrowing, "but I know nothing about everything else, like everyone else's past."

There was a long pause. By the time Lance had begun speaking, they were already half way down the third corridor. Thankfully, he had slowed down his pace by then.

His eyes turned in their sockets slowly. "I came to the GSA over 600 years ago. I was raised in Zodiac, where my race, the Weisses, reside." He raised his right hand to display the burn there, more prominent than before now that it was in the light. A smear of the puffball's blood was across one leg. "The Harradine's been there since I was 12. It's part of the cultural religion."

Bewildered by the mass of unknown words, the puffball made the topic drop. "How long have you known Jecra?"

Lance blinked unhurriedly, his long eyelashes making the simple gesture somewhat feminine. "Only 41 years," he replied nonchalantly. He gave the puffball a serious look. "One thing about him: he curses a lot." He repositioned his arm to keep his helmet steady. "It will do you some good if you don't copy that trait."

Meta Knight nodded. Just by listening to the tone of voice, he could tell which ones could be categorised as curses.

Nodding once, the horned man's attention turned to the view outside. The sun was hidden, but the smooth pink gave it away that it was dusk. Just when the puffball thought that it was the end of the conversation, Lance sighed.

"And, before Jecra gossips about me and Halberd together, there is _nothing _going on." He took his gloves from his shoulder and held them out. "Showers are just there. I'll take your gloves."

With some difficulty, the smaller knight finally managed to take off the gloves. The drying blood wasn't helpful, and made his mouth curl in disgust. Lance took them with each of his own, then turned on his heel and left without another word.

Meta Knight sighed inwardly. The bossy attitude was starting to get to him. He looked down the corridor as he tried to locate the showers, catching sight of the blood unintentionally. Hopefully, he won't get attacked there too.

* * *

Even though it was cold water that had erupted from the showerhead, he had embraced it with open arms. There was no room to be picky.

However, now that the puffball was out of the tiny cubicle, he came face to face with a small soldier. "Took your time," was all he said, before pushing past for his turn.

Meta Knight was relieved. No fight, and no questions about why he still had a cape on.

Deciding it was best to leave before something bad happened, he dashed out into the corridor. The small archways lined across the walls revealed the dark sky, the humid air rich upon his face. It was remarkable how much a few hours affected the world.

The wind blew through his cape, and at that precise moment, Meta Knight realised something: he had no idea where Jecra's room was.

Kicking the floor, he guessed which side of the corridor to go down and took action. He had the burning feeling it was wrong, but it was better to keep moving. At least it would appear he had some goal.

He had only realised how much at ease he felt when he was alone when a soldier walking the opposite direction burst his bubble. His hands seized up, and his feet were more uncertain in their tracks. They took him to one side of the wall to pass the man, but the silhouette stopped in front of him.

With no knowledge of what the warrior wanted, Meta Knight had every right to be sceptical. He had to wrap his cape round himself to prevent the wings from showing. Once again, he had no weapon with him, and his eyes instinctively travelled to the sword on the man's back.

Piercing eyes searched him up and down under a golden head guard. A messy, dark ponytail shot upwards as though gravity had no effect, tied by a long ribbon. "Did you happen to see a crazy boy on your travels?"

Meta Knight shook his head. It was clear the man was a ninja – the eerie demeanour of a full body mask and sandals gave it away, not to mention the casual yet intimidating way of asking.

The man narrowed his eyes. "I see. As you were." He brushed past the warrior carelessly, and jumped onto the side of a nearby pillar, one arm hooked around its body.

"Anything I can do?" Meta Knight asked instead. He knew what the answer was, but it was worth a try anyway. He wanted to help, be useful. Plus this person was in a very similar situation to him: knowing the destination but no means to get there.

Looking down irritably, the ninja sighed. "I'll find him in the end. Now run along, boy."

The Star Warrior was about to do just that, but something made him stop. "I'm looking for a friend too – Jecra. He told me to meet him in his room."

Loosening his grip, the unknown man slid down the pillar and landed soundlessly at its base. "What do you expect me to do – be your bodyguard? Be your personal guide?"

It was clear he certainly didn't want company. There sure were a lot of stubborn people in the Army. Meta Knight turned on his heel. "Sorry to disturb you. I'll find a way myself."

He had taken only two steps before the ninja had appeared directly in front of him in a puff of smoke. He was surprised to say the least, but he didn't display it. Taking a cautious step back, he offered a quizzical look. He was mildly curious as to what made the man go back.

"Squadron Nine, right?" he demanded, dusting down his front (even though the smoke had already passed). He didn't bother waiting for an answer. "I've a tip for you. Old Hector didn't last."

Meta Knight withdrew involuntarily, feeling the need to cover his injured hand whilst he was there. It was clear of blood, but the indent was still as clear as day. "Is he…?" he began, but the laugh that followed stopped him mid-sentence.

"He died ages ago. It's just that Arthur's waiting that little bit longer in case it proves to be a mistake. Don't see why." The ninja tilted his head to the side. "Tell that to Jecra for me, then I'll repay the debt by showing you the way."

Feeling it was a fair deal, the puffball agreed. "Did you mention what your name was? So I can deliver the message more…personally." He had no idea whether the excuse would work, since it was a weak cover for his curiosity. The ninja knew better than that.

The significant pause that followed only hinted that the man was thinking it through. "No, I didn't mention it. It's Yamikage. And, just so that you know, you were going completely the wrong way."

"Yamikage," Meta Knight mused, walking side by side with his newly made acquaintance back in his tracks. It was strange, walking down a corridor at a different angle. It could have almost been mistaken as a new hallway altogether. "It means dark shadow, right?"

The ninja averted his gaze, clearly short of patience. "Yes. I also know that 'Meta Knight' has a variety of meanings."

He was about to question Yamikage how he knew his name, but thought better of it. Perhaps it was best to assume everyone knew him rather than being surprised. Running a hand over the passing pillars, he observed the night sky again. The clouds were drifting unusually slowly. They didn't even seem to move as they went up a set of faded stairs to a similar corridor that could have been identical to the previous one.

It must have been several minutes before the ninja finally said, "I guess this is your stop."

The Star Warrior looked at the door and the ninja in turn. The door had a plaque embedded with 'Squadron Nine Seniors' on it, a small emblem below the metal. He could only assume it was the squadron's sign, and his cheeks flustered in mild embarrassment. "Thank you for the help."

Yamikage merely nodded. "Don't forget the message." Just like last time, the ninja disappeared spontaneously, and there wasn't a trace of him; save for the small whiff of smoke that lingered. It was interesting how little effort it seemed to require – it must be a standard technique for ninjas.

Without hesitating, Meta Knight strode into the room.

It was impressive how clean-cut it was – pottery and various valuable ornaments lined up along the wall, then suddenly changed into dramatic pictures of unknown meanings. The two sides were separated by a slightly open window, which ruffled the tattered curtains dreamily. There was also definite differences in the beds set in each corner, the way one bed was made and hadn't been used in months, but the other was the polar opposite.

Jecra's side, he presumed, was cosy enough to make the puffball smile a little. Taking a worn book from an edge table, he sat at the foot of the Star Warrior's bed. He turned to a random page, where a forested scene covered its spread and a lone duckling was crying by a stump.

His confusion lasted a few minutes due to the absence of words, for Jecra had entered the room, as if by rehearsal. Hair more outrageous than before, he rubbed where his temple should have been under his mask.

His eyes glimmered with pride as he slumped onto the unmade bed, leaning over the wooden bedpost to peek at the book. Meta Knight had closed it and set it aside before he could look though.

"And? What did Sir Arthur say?"

Modestly, the Star Warrior discarded his weapons by slotting them into hooks by the bed. "He's rather miffed, but it's certain he'll keep you in. High confidence in you." He frowned, clearly suspicious about the fact. "He said he'll talk to you personally soon."

Meta Knight pouted sullenly. "An interview, then?"

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" the warrior confirmed casually, leaning his back against the faded cream wall. "Why does he have to make everything so formal?"

Shrugging in reply, the blue puffball observed his left hand again. The scar was still there, but it was much fainter than it was the last time he looked. If that was the case, perhaps his eye was healing too – he honestly couldn't tell.

He raised his head. "Is my race gifted in some way?"

He heard Jecra sigh. "I don't think I can answer that. Best to ask someone who can, and someone who would actually want to. Good luck." The bed creaked as he tried to get more comfortable. "Maybe there's something about your kind and grouchiness. Compared to Noisurat, you're a bag of laughs. I swear he laughs about _nothing_, except of you make a complete prat of yourself."

"Perhaps he just can't find anything amusing save for that," Meta Knight pointed out. He scooted across the floor so that his eyes could just about see over the mattress. Mask forgotten on his pillow, Jecra's fingers raked through his hair idly.

Without thinking, he sat himself next to the warrior. Jecra didn't seem to mind though. "Yamikage told me to tell you Hector's probably already…"

"I know," the blonde suddenly interrupted, taking more interest in tracing the creases on his blankets. "That man's been kindly reminding me for the past few days."

Meta Knight was hoping his friend would say something else, but that was all he said. Lost for words, he chose to reply, "Oh".

What else was he supposed to do? Reassure Jecra the fact someone he never met would return from a mission which he had no knowledge about? Even though that could be right in some cases, it was only false comfort at the end of the day.

To break the apparent tension, the soldier's hands clapped triumphantly. "Wanna play Triplets?"

"Play what?" the puffball queried, bemused at the proposal.

"Triplets. I don't know what else to call it." The Star Warrior pushed himself off the wall and turned so that he was facing Meta Knight fully. "Lance and I play it all the time." His eyebrows furrowed before he corrected himself. "Actually, I play and Lance ruins it with some smarmy comment or another."

The blue puffball was slightly intrigued. "How does it go?"

Jecra grinned. "I made it up myself, so tell me as soon as you get bored, which won't be long. Trust me. You just come up with as many trios as you can."

Meta Knight tilted his head in confusion.

"For example: breakfast, lunch and dinner. These three are all meals, and have a connection." He broadened his smile as the other warrior nodded slowly. "So, first trio you can think of."

The puffball took a moment to come up with one. "Ready, set, go."

Jecra arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Not the answer I expected, but it works." He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he tried to think of his own triplet. "Morning, afternoon and evening."

"They correspond to the example you had earlier," Meta Knight noticed instantly, feeling a smile creep onto his face.

The warrior pouted silkily. "You weren't supposed to notice," he complained, wagging a finger to make his point. "Top, middle and bottom. Happy now?"

"Men, women and children."

"Men, harpies and demons, actually." Jecra snorted at his own joke, whilst the other knight remained impartial. A light-hearted comment like that could get him into trouble one day. Not just the words, but how readily Jecra had corrected him.

"Red, blue and green," the puffball said instead, hoping his companion would take the hint.

"I'm bored." Stretching his arms out in front of him, the Star Warrior yawned without covering his mouth.

Meta Knight couldn't help but smile at the sight. "Me too." He looked across the room at this angle, where the windowsill peaked through the light curtain.

More artefacts were on tables, and the ones placed on the wall were in a seemingly random way. However, every one was organised in their designated spot in terms of a small label (presumably by era), a small layer of dust forming on each surface.

"Is that Sir Hector's side?" He felt a pang in his side as he mentioned the name, recalling Yamikage's message.

The warrior opposite glanced unnecessarily to the made bed. "Yeah, but until he comes back, I guess you can always take the bed." He closed his eyes lazily, surprisingly serene under his heavy eyebrows. It was apparent he still had faith in his leader's return. "It's been a long day."

He had an encounter with Arthur, a few hours collecting resources with someone who hated him immediately and an assault from his three newly-made enemies. Not to mention an introduction with Yamikage. Jecra had visited the Army's leader twice within a few hours, and both times had an incredibly high risk.

It had indeed been a long day for both of them.

Meta Knight tucked his feet closer to his body. "Using Sir Hector's bed – are you sure it's right?"

The Star Warrior opened an eye. "Sure it is. He'll understand." He had to prod the puffball's back a few times before he got off the bed. Watching Meta Knight amble to the bed on the opposite side, the soldier lifted his own covers and slid into the comforts of the material. "Don't forget to turn off the light!"

After doing what his comrade told him to do, the puffball gingerly went into the folds of the blankets. Shutting his eyes, he hadn't realised how hard his body had been fighting until now. He had been ignoring their protests all day, and by finally having a bit of time to rest up, he seized the moment without a second thought.

"Hey, Meta Knight," Jecra's voice suddenly rang out, however there was no sound to confirm the words were heard. Upon the warrior's face, a smile played on his lips contently. "Just like old times," he muttered.

**-- End --**

* * *

**A/N: **Were any of you expecting that? I was planning to introduce another OC at first, but thought that that's going way over the top. So along came Yamikage :) Do you think his character's all right/sucks? Anything to improve on/consider? I tried to add his 'boy' talk, you know, looking down slightly, but don't know if it worked.

So now lies the question of whether Hector returns. And the fact Meta's _first _day is now finished. Or is it?

And bear this in mind: In the title, shadows refer to Yamikage, but also something else – a major hint to next chapter.

Anyway, please tell me what you thought of the chapter! I want to hear your views of it! :)


	8. Some Prices Are Steep

**A/N: **Hello again, and welcome to chapter 8! This time, things are a little more eerie in terms of invading sleep and possession. I'll give you three guesses who's behind it ^^

Jecra swears once in this chapter as well, but I think we all know he has a somewhat foul mouth. Sorry if this part feels insignificant or boring, but do know that it is pretty important.

So then, hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**-- Chapter 8: Some Prices Are Steep --**

Darkness. It was cold, and the black was ominous. No other shade, just that. The single colour stretched as far as a desert, but its horizon was invisible, its vastness blending at all angles. It was an eerie atmosphere, one that made him feel sick deep in his stomach.

Meta Knight had no idea how he was standing. His feet were set apart and appeared to be on solid ground, but it certainly didn't feel that way. There was a faint glow around them, and when he looked down at his hands, he found it was round each finger too.

Eyes widening, he turned slowly. Whilst he could, it was best if he escaped now.

"Little one, this dimension does not work in your favour."

The puffball stopped mid-spin. One reason was that he couldn't locate where the voice had come from, and the second was that the same voice was painfully familiar. It was possible the speaker was a distant memory, one of his parents before the Star Warrior embarked on his three hundred year sleep.

The echo of a disgruntled snort. "Good, you know where you lie," it provoked, its tone heave with superiority. "Moony woke up slightly later than planned, so tell me everything you know."

Meta Knight closed his eyes and sat down, finding it more soothing than talking to seemingly thin air. "I don't know what you mean."

There was a long silence before the disembodied voice spoke up again. "Is that right?" the male spat, evidently doing his best to hide his temper. It didn't prove to be successful.

The Star Warrior's eyes shot open as he heard a thunderous crash above him. Hastily looking up, he was only just about quick enough to dodge a flaming slab of stone. He watched after it as the alight debris fell and grew smaller as it pummelled to the non-existent floor. Several more blocks soon followed, keeping each other company as some dived quicker than others.

It scared him nevertheless.

"Stop, please!" Meta Knight shouted, eyes scouring anywhere above him for movement. He just wanted to leave. Return to the GSA, where things actually made sense.

The unknown man exhaled furiously. "You think you can fool me? Don't be so selfish and think about what _I_ want to know."

The blue puffball brought his hands over his tightly-squeezed eyes as an attempt to shut him out. He didn't care if the dimension didn't work in his favour or if his company wanted to fire meteors at him; escape was his only instinct. Discomfort accumulated over time, fear and confusion slotting themselves into the equation too. What was it the voice wanted to know? He sincerely had no idea.

As if it sensed the Star Warrior's unwillingness, the voice failed to form words, but rather laughter. Low at first, then a more high-pitched ringing, vibrating every cell within the puffball's body.

"Fine, go ahead and continue being ignorant. You clearly have no real understanding of what you must do."

Meta Knight could tell his breathing had increased. Not only that, but it was heavy too, as though it took every effort to find the oxygen in the atmosphere. He raised his head slightly. "Ignorance derives from deprivation. Deprivation, in my case, would be my history."

There was an outburst, as though the voice was keeping his laugh as contained as possible. "History doesn't matter. What matters is now, and the future. That's all."

Shaking his head, the puffball got to his feet. He looked up defiantly, choosing a random space where he thought the speaker was. What he was about to say would aggravate the unknown male, but that didn't worry him any more. "It does matter. Moving forward without a foundation is like shortening the walk towards the guillotine. Having something behind me about my past could hinder, maybe even prevent that."

"You sound desperate," the voice mused, enjoyment practically dripping through his teeth (if he had any). Meta Knight could feel the grin on his skin, and the feeling was nothing in short of alarming. "Learning comes with a price. Are you prepared for that?"

A flicker of light in front of the Star Warrior appeared. It emitted a pale green light, flecks of gold flashing from its tip every now and again. Without knowledge of what to do, he could only assume this tiny fire had some, if not all, the information he wanted to uncover.

But was it something he wanted to know? What was the price he had to pay, if he hadn't done it already?

He felt the cold flames hover a few inches when he cupped the green thing in his hands. A smile played on his lips ecstatically, his eyelids drooping as he let the pleasure wash over him.

It was extremely tempting, now that it was in his grasp.

* * *

Meta Knight felt his eyes snap open, but he couldn't see a thing. He could hardly breathe, and his body felt far more restricted than to his liking. Flailing his arms in a frenzy, he threw Hector's blankets onto the floor.

Sunlight seeped through the somewhat torn curtains, the window still minutely open to let in the draught. His flashing eyes drifted to Jecra, hair sticking up at numerous angles, then to the weapons on the wall by the warrior.

The sight of the sword was enough for Meta Knight to get off the bed and stride to the other side of the room without a second thought. Drawing out the rapier from the wall easily, he smirked. It felt good in his grasp, the power rushing through his nerves like nectar. He wanted to make himself even happier, even more in control. The only thing he felt like doing was engage in battle. He could feel it in his fingertips.

But it was cowardly to kill someone when they were still sleeping. And it ruined the fun of it all.

Tossing the weapon in the air and catching it by its blade, he prodded the napping warrior by the hilt. "Jecra," he sang, a tone of voice he was shocked to find himself adopt.

The Star Warrior stirred, raking a hand through his messy blonde hair instinctively. "What time is it?" he mumbled as he turned onto his back reluctantly. His eyes widened at the sight of the flashing blade and Meta Knight's devious grin. Something was definitely not normal.

The warrior rolled off the bed just as the puffball struck the sword precisely where his head was before. Taking a defensive stance, he eyed the weapon cautiously.

"I have the burning suspicion you fight hand to hand," Meta Knight sneered, turning the sword in his hand idly. His red eyes reflected from the metal innocently. "Show me, and I'll have the pleasure of slicing them in half."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Jecra shook his head. "What has gotten into you?"

The puffball glanced up at the ceiling, as if the answer was written up there. "I'm getting tired."

The words hung there for a mere second, before he lunged with the sword outstretched. Jecra instinctively sidestepped, and darted for the shield still on the wall. Furious, the blue Star Warrior whirled on a spot and followed after him.

Sword met shield in a flurry of sparks and a deafening clatter. The tip was set in the shield's centre, threatening to wrench out the cobalt stone. It took the utmost effort to keep the metal plate up, but even more so not to thrust it into the crazed expression that had spread across the puffball's face like fire.

He was a friend.

Instead, Jecra forced the shield to one side, the sword and its wielder following. Before he fell to the ground, the blonde warrior grabbed hold of the mantle and swung him onto the bed determinedly.

The Star Warrior's head banged against the bedpost, but it didn't matter. This sort of ferocious attack so far would only be the work of a demon beast, and violence would be the only way to force it out.

Leaping onto the bed himself, one hand pinning Meta Knight's arm, Jecra brought his free hand over his head to deal the necessary, painful blows. There was the ominous pang as he watched the puffball recoil every time, but it had to be done. It was all psychological – he was hitting a demon, not a colleague.

Just when the fist was about to make contact for the sixth time, a blue hand caught it easily. Crimson eyes bore into the warrior gleefully, small sparkles of orange meandering in them.

"Won't work," he deliberated, as if he knew his opponent's plan. The notes were still hovering in the air as Jecra furrowed his eyebrows. The puffball tightened his grip on the hand and kicked the Star Warrior off him, forcing most of his body weight with him as well.

The warrior brushed his tresses aside irritably, already sticking to his forehead. He raised his shield just in time to prevent his head being sliced open. Obvious care was needed in this situation rather than reckless motions.

Using his right hand, he grabbed hold of any part of Meta Knight's arm and tossed him over his damp head, hair matt upon the gathering moisture. The puffball crashed into the door with a loud bang, which would have been enough to knock anyone unconscious.

However, much to Jecra's relief and misery, he stood up groggily with one hand massaging his temple. At least it proved to have some effect. "That actually hurt."

Jecra wasn't really listening though. As long as those red eyes were exactly where golden ones should be, it was nigh impossible to rule out lives were on the line. If he wasn't able to extract the demon quickly, then how much blood would be spilt? His, Meta Knight's or anyone else's?

He jumped towards the possessed puffball, his shield forming a magnificent arch as he took aim with its side. As he suspected, the enemy darted out of the way at the last second, twirling like a ballroom dancer as the sword took the lead.

Using his free hand to push himself to the left, the blade missed his feet by a few centimetres. Landing on Hector's blankets nimbly, the Star Warrior didn't have to turn around to know he was still under attack.

He did an ungraceful roll to the side and stole a look at the puffball whilst he was there.

Meta Knight wasn't terribly far away, but the sword's tip was almost touching the floor. A white crescent erupted from the source, its energy ruffling both capes violently. Two pairs of eyes followed the beam as it ate away the bed. Moments later the light had left a massive indent in the wall and made a jug explode, it appeared, from the inside. The shelf it once stood on gave way, inviting other artefacts to slip off like an avalanche.

The warrior made a sound of disbelief. "Shit, Hector's gonna kill me." Scrambling to his feet, his eyes searched the broken shards splayed across the bed's mattress like confetti. Feathers and splinters surrounded the scene, as if it was a flowerbed. Definitely beyond repair.

Once again, he narrowly avoided being beheaded by blocking the sword's path. Meta Knight was directly above him now, his wings spread out to steady himself. "Presuming I don't kill you first, that is," he corrected. A small laugh escaped the warrior's lips, and it was enough to make the other shudder minutely.

"Very true." Jecra thrust the shield away from himself, causing Meta Knight to lose his balance and do a twisted somersault. It would have been amusing, but the grave situation at hand was slightly more important.

Giving him one dirty look, the puffball dived towards the window, smashing the glass and taking away most of the curtain. The morning light shone into the room similar to that of a lighthouse, making Jecra shield his eyes in protest.

By the time he got used to the sudden lighting, Meta Knight was long gone.

* * *

Even when the swordsman had landed in the dingy garage, he didn't feel the urge to put the wings away. This was what he was, and if anyone had a problem, he would just have to kill them. Simple.

As for Jecra, sparing him was something he might as well do. He had far more pressing matters, and that fight served as a warm-up rather than a proper duel. It was much too cramped to his taste anyway.

Casting the thought aside and taking in very little of his surroundings, Meta Knight looked for his starship among the other ships and random components. The poor lighting didn't help, but he knew it was further in the garage, slightly to the right.

How did he know? Up until now, he had been unaware of the soft mewing in his head rather than from outside. No words formed, but the noise was still the unmistakable, coaxing sort of tune.

Edging past vehicles of many different shapes and sizes, he poked his head round a particularly heavily-armed warship. His own was a few metres ahead, and he made a beeline straight for it.

The glass felt natural under the Star Warrior's touch, hissing open and hiding itself away into the folds of metal. Controls flashed energetically and a moan resounded in the machine's engine. However, the puffball's eyes soon travelled to the winged snake in the single seat, teal eyes half open. He could only assume this was his partner.

"I was meant to wake up a couple of days earlier than you, but it seems something went wrong." The puffball narrowed his eyes as the snake drew to its full height – a mere inch. "So, tell Moony what you discovered."

There was obviously something about demon beasts and reference to themselves in third person. It highly amused him. "Tell Meta Knight why you're here."

The amiable grin on the demon beast's face faltered, wings tensing up as if it had been frozen. After a pause, it replied, "I'm your partner. I'm to watch you and prod you in the general direction should you stray."

A split-second later, the creature was dead. Jecra's sword pierced the centre of its torso, pinkish goo gathering at the blade and staining the starship's chair. Its eyes remained open, mouth gaping equally as wide.

Meta Knight hoisted the snake out of the compartment and with a confident swing, tossing the dead body anywhere other than in his sight. He didn't need to have an eye kept on. He was in charge of himself, a loner, and no one was going to get in his way.

His bat-like wings widened their fingers as he took flight, shifting several bits of metal as strong gusts followed behind the puffball.

The light was harsh, but his red eyes gazed at its source defiantly. Everything wasn't to his liking, but it was tolerable nevertheless. There were a lot of warriors here that needed eliminating, and that would keep him occupied for a while at least.

Aiming high, he raised his chin and tilted his wings. In one flap, he was eye-level with the tiled roof of the GSA headquarters. He landed nimbly on this high spot, then felt the wings return to their hidden state at long last.

The puffball swung his feet over the edge of the building and exhaled as he felt the tiny feeling of inner peace. For once, he could slow down.

Greenery stretched itself out in front of him, small groups of warriors shouting above each other so that individual words couldn't be heard. If he leaned forwards, the veranda that led to Palamedes' armoury was just about visible. In his mind's eye, he knew the garage was even more to the right.

Idly, he brought the sword's blade into the light, gazing into its depths to see his reflection. The flaming eyes danced out of the image, but its activity lowered as the colour of amber returned, much slower than it was in reality.

Meta Knight's eyes softened, placing his friend's sword slightly behind him and sighed. It was as if he had been replenished, but snatches of images were drilled into his skull. What he though had been a peaceful sleep, had turned into something potentially dangerous. The worst thing was the damage had already been dealt.

He rested a hand on the nearest tower pensively. The top window flickered dimly, implying the room's occupant had worked all night.

His selfish ways had endangered a friend and killed a demon beast with possible answers. The blood still on the sword proved it.

Meta Knight traced the cracks between the tower's bricks, looking out at the misty horizon. The worst of it was it was all for nothing. The voice had only given him the feeling of immense satisfaction, its consequences linked with it. It didn't keep up his end of the bargain.

That was because his subconscious made him act that way. He would never have trusted sinister voices or empty dimensions. He would have kept his curiosity away, ensure he thought about it first. Perhaps even ask Jecra about it, or maybe even Arthur.

His subconscious brought all that out, making his instinct take action rather than his intellect. At the end of the day, it all led down to one question.

Was he really that desperate?

**-- End --**

* * *

**A/N: **Right, probably a lot of explaining to do. I don't even know where to start, so if you have anything you really need to know, I'll do my best to explain.

So then, hope I didn't waste your time and if you do still have some spare, please leave a review and say what you thought about it :)


	9. White Lies

**A/N: **Wow, it's been ages since I've uploaded something. So then, sorry for the delay :) Hope everyone's well and looks forward to reading this instalment. It seems really bad though – it's hard to put two bits together!

So this time, it's basically catch-up time and also the introduction of…who? Yes, another character. Lucky you, eh? But it's someone you know. So, by process of elimination, you can guess who they are. Still stuck? It's a she :D

Hopefully, I've got her in character…But anyway, I apologise in advance if anything's too out of character or terrible in general!

* * *

**-- Chapter 9: White Lies --**

The sun was zenith by the time Meta Knight opened his eyes again. He gave a small smile as he felt Jecra sit down next to him. It wasn't physical, but rather the tiny, emotional feeling of knowing.

"I figured you would be here. After an hour, mind you." The Star Warrior looked across the roof and jerked his head to the distant part of the roof. "Had to climb out Sir Arthur's tower to get here. His one's the only one that is accessible to everyone."

The puffball grimaced. "Did he find out about this morning?"

"Naturally," Jecra confirmed, giving a light shrug. "Our next door neighbour so happens to be a paranoid one, so the ruckus scared him. You can tell what happened from there. Sir Arthur's peeved as hell, I'm in trouble and so are you." He rubbed the back of his neck, as though his head had all of a sudden become harder to support. "You're hanging on by the fingertips here."

Turning his head minutely, Meta Knight finally looked at the soldier. "So what now? I doubt any of us can say all will be well and continue as if nothing happened."

The Star Warrior set his shield aside, balancing its base into a particularly cracked roof tile. "You've got his attention at least, I guess. He seemed more than happy to see you during the dinner hour."

"That doesn't sound good," the puffball commented, eying the crowd below. It was odd, the way he felt a twisted sort of contentment as he watched the vast number of soldiers fighting below. There was something about their swift actions that hypnotised him. The chimes of metal against metal rang almost rhythmically, as though it was singing a soothing tune only he could hear.

A sharp exhale escaped Jecra's nose. "Exactly. He's ready to bite your head off, but isn't saying so. That should be an omen by definition." He raked a hand through his messy hair nonchalantly.

The puffball blinked slowly, averting his gaze away from the crowd. He eyed the tower his friend had pointed out earlier. Or what he thought anyway – he wasn't looking at the time. "He would want explanations, right?"

Under his mask, the soldier pouted. "Only if there is one," he responded a second too late. "The boss isn't one to force answers, but he's not exactly one to lie to either." He flashed a grin, but Meta Knight noticed it didn't reach his eyes. "You'll be fine, I promise you."

He didn't reply. Being possessed in his subconscious was definitely unusual, and telling that to Arthur was going to be impossible to explain. It was his choice, after all, taking that unbelievably strange light. He had been far too irrational. Now he looked back, it was so obvious there was going to be a catch. Without a doubt, this was the efforts of Nightmare.

Maybe that was all the more reason to tell Arthur, that maybe the possession was a premonition of a danger coming. There was no way to tell what would happen unless he risked it.

"Also, could I have my sword back?"

The blue Star Warrior widened his eyes, looking down at the said weapon in panic. The pink liquid was still at its tip, reflecting the sun's ray indefinitely. Guiltily, he handed the rapier over.

It was clear Jecra had noticed the other warrior's agitation, and he too looked at the blood. "Judging by that look, you have no idea where that came from."

"No," Meta Knight said, his lips barely moving. It sounded incredibly far away, and he could hardly believe himself for lying to a friend. However, there was no time for regrets now. He had to stick to the story from now on.

His colleague didn't press the matter, deciding that it wasn't his field. Taking his sword into his own hands, Jecra set it aside to join the shield. "The interview. You've still got a few hours."

The puffball looked up so quickly everything but the Vice seemed more blurry than usual. The way he had said the sentence aggravated him – the tone was both harsh and distant. Almost as if he didn't care. "Aren't you coming as well?"

Opting to feel grooves in the tiles rather than return eye contact, the blonde warrior gave a small sigh. "No. This is something you have to sort out yourself." He lifted his gaze to the cloudless sky, as though it provided some form of inspiration. "You can't depend on me all the time."

A contemptuous snort immediately escaped Meta Knight's mouth. "You did that once, and we both know the result of that. Have you forgotten?"

Jecra cleared his throat. As a way to pass time or from a genuine sore throat, the blue Star Warrior didn't know which. "I'm aware of that," he confirmed gently. "However, this is Sir Arthur's order. We should value his greatest interest if you're going to have even an inkling of chance."

The warrior got to his feet, as though his comrade had already accepted his side of the argument. The fact he had avoided eye contact was noticeable.

Deciding it was his cue, Meta Knight followed suit. Seeing Jecra like this worried him a little. It was as if his brave face had collapsed all at once, and all that was left was an unfeeling skeleton.

This was what it was like when the Vice was serious for once.

"As now is not the time for company, would you mind if I trained alone?" It was a selfish request, but he needed to start somewhere to handle Arthur. If he was to have 'even an inkling', he would much rather try alone. It would give room for Jecra to cheer up too.

The Star Warrior's maroon eyes lifted a fraction. "Yeah, I was about to say the same thing." He picked up his weapons before continuing. "I have a few bits to sort out. Your armour and the rest of it are with Sir Palamedes. Remember the way?"

He felt himself recoil instinctively. The Vice's words were so similar to when they first split. It was too perfect to be a mere coincidence, and it gave the impression he was going to relive his mistake. Running through life in a constant loop. What if this time round, he would go blind in both eyes? What if he would actually be expelled from the Army?

Regardless of all the buzzing thoughts, his mouth said, "Yeah, thanks."

* * *

"You're still here."

The words cut through his train of numerous thoughts like a hot iron. Taking a step back, Meta Knight got into a defensive stance and held out his sword steadily – the speaker was a female after all, and it was much too low and accented to be Vivian. Not something he wanted to hear when just approaching the grounds.

Vivid green eyes met his gaze, bright against her pale skin. As though she noticed the puffball's attention, she gave an incredibly stoic smile. It was an oxymoron at its finest. The sapphire on her headband glistened a little, her purple hair bunched in a high ponytail resting on an armoured shoulder.

"I'm Garlude. I heard that you're the skilled swordsman who just started here." She looked down at her feet, fidgeting with the hem of her travelling cape from boredom rather than anxiety.

The Star Warrior widened his eyes slightly, practically overlooked thanks to the mask. As far as he knew, he had shown no form of decent sword fighting except against Jecra. Even with that, he wouldn't know where to start. It was still possible it was a ploy though; it would be best to proceed with caution. "Who did you hear that from?"

Garlude shrugged. "Does it matter?" she replied swiftly, dull eyes barely reflecting her mild impatience. Or nonchalance, it was proving very hard to read her expressions. She looked away slightly, then ambled to the pillar to Meta Knight's right.

The advance was a small one, but it made him grip his sword tighter. He didn't really try to hide it though.

"Huh," the female mused, her eyes drifting to the blade slowly. "Still a little afraid of me?" She fingered her own hilt, but it was unnecessary to draw it out. Meta Knight had already taken the hint.

Regardless of the threat, he made no attempt to put away his sword. If it was to resort to violence, then he would be ready. The absence of a scabbard made him less able to defend himself. Whatever the case, telling her his name couldn't be too harmful.

"Meta Knight," he said, ensuring the tone of reluctance was clear as day.

She arched an eyebrow in response. "Why Meta Knight though? All Star Warriors refer to themselves as just their first name." Her right wrist twisted a little, her thumb now poised under the hilt.

There was no real reason. It was just given to him as two names, so he simply used them both. He was aware of the fact it was odd, thanks to Arthur's explanation, but he felt obliged to use them both nevertheless.

As an attempt to answer her question, he gave a nonchalant shrug. It must have looked more like a spasm though, the way he held it back soon after.

The warrior gave a small sigh. "No psychological reason then? I was kinda hoping you would say it has a good ring." Irritably, she tossed her hair behind her shoulders. "You've got to admit it does. Whoever chose that name has good taste." Her eyes seemed to shine pleasantly, but the pace changed almost instantly.

Meta Knight barely had enough time to counter. He could only raise his rapier, keeping the other blade a good distance from his face. Looking up slightly, he saw Garlude beam. It was as though she was merely posing for a camera shoot, the way her smile was plastered on her blank face.

"Not bad. Guess you are, indeed, a skilled swordsman." She withdrew her sword, this time aiming with the point rather than the side.

He was prepared for it this time. As though it was in his nature, the puffball took a step to the left and made his opponent's sword change direction with his own. The opponent's sword dug into the grass with surprising ease. "Why are you fighting me?"

The female frowned. "Isn't it obvious already? News has spread about you, and interest has sparked even in Sir Falspar. It was only natural for me to see whether the commotion was really worth it." She drew to her full height, flicking dirt off her sword as though that was what the rapier actually was. "I'm nosy like that."

It still wasn't enough to make him drop his guard. "I take it you know about my current situation too," Meta Knight said bluntly.

The answer that came wasn't a hasty one. "I have a vague idea. Getting into a fight with Clive's lot is not a good thing to do right off the bat."

He didn't know if it was anger or shock that made him feel more sceptical. The way she was talking was almost sympathetic, as though she was speaking from experience. Although, now thinking about it, Garlude may just have been near the scene…The hair became more recognisable now, and the cape triggered a number of neurons consecutively.

"You're getting there, aren't you?" the woman mused, sheathing her weapon. "I heard you after my partner and I took a break. We didn't stick around long enough to see what it was about or how it ended."

In that case, right at this moment, she had no knowledge about the wings. It made things into a bare skeleton, and it made it more natural without the additional components. If it was possible, Garlude could be his only source of outsider's opinion. There was the doubt of whether she truly liked him or not, but at least it was less obvious than that of anyone else he had met so far. It was that that made it a little more reassuring, the idea of not knowing everything straight away.

Meta Knight sighed inwardly, relieved about the confirmation. Thankfully, the mask hid the exhale. "How come you didn't help?"

To his surprise, Garlude laughed. It was a low and curious sound, completely different to Jecra's amicable one. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." She ran a hand through her hair nonchalantly, as though she had answered the simplest of questions. "But enough of the past. Sir Arthur not kicked you out for violence?"

Meta Knight shook his head. "I have an appointment with him later on today. Jecra said that my place was secure when I first started, but I doubt that's really the case anymore."

Nodding slowly, her eyes remained as calm as ever. It was hard to tell she was a member of the Army. She kicked the dusty ground aimlessly, before finally sitting down on the dying grass. As she leaned back, she set her sword to one side. After much thought, she rubbed the spot next to her.

"As I expected. There are only six kirbies in the whole Army, including you. Sir Arthur's not that stupid to make you leave, even if you do pose a threat."

If it was only one incident, he would have been even slightly relieved. However, Meta Knight thought about this morning's event. What if he had killed Jecra? What if the effects of the possession had gone on for much longer? The whole fort could have ended up in ashes for all he knew. Even he knew he was a threat more than just another warrior.

He was doing a lot of this today, he noticed.

"So it seems," the puffball murmured, choosing a spot a good distance from the woman and turning his head to the horizon. True, the clouds were practically the same shade as the ground, but it gave him something to concentrate on rather than the countess possibilities. "Wait, what do you mean by 'kirbies'?"

Garlude raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You don't recognise the sound of your own race? Wow, you really do suffer from amnesia."

He had the grace to look embarrassed. When he first woke up, he knew he was a Star Warrior. He had just assumed that was his race too. "I don't suffer from amnesia," Meta Knight corrected. "I can remember a lot of things, like names and emotions. It's just that…there seems to be a hole where the important things are. I know how to fight, to eat, but I don't know anything about my origins."

She offered a look that was likely to be her closest to sympathetic. "There's always time to learn," she reasoned, brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes.

"It depends on whether people will let me have it – time." Meta Knight met his acquaintance's gaze. Could he really trust her? His countless moments of doubt had reduced to the bare minimum both from the conversation and the mock fight. How could he bond to her so easily?

Before she replied, Garlude cocked her head to the right a little. "Sure they will. There's plenty of time before the real war begins."

The puffball didn't know what to reply to that. There was no telling when the true war would start, but there was no point in trying to counter her. "Why are you doing this?" he asked instead. He was mildly interested in what she had to say – it was unlikely she came to him on her own accord.

He proved to be right when Garlude raised her chin slightly. "It's my orders," she replied softly, as though the words were actually not meant to be heard.

There was something wrong. If she really did take the orders from someone, it had to be someone of their Squadron. Hector had obviously been gone for a long time and had no knowledge of him, and the likelihood of Jecra issuing the command was near to zero.

Meta Knight narrowed his eyes. "Whose?"

A glimmer in her eyes could have meant anything. Surprise was just as possible as sarcasm, regardless of being near polar opposites. The corners of her mouth wavered slightly. "My own."

The female ran a hand over the blade, then held the weapon in line with her face. "You haven't had a true chance to release your potential. Want to train?"

It was a tough decision. Although her friendly actions could be nothing more than a trick, Meta Knight had the courage to nod. If it meant it was a fair battle to fight, then perhaps the opportunity was best taken rather than rejected.

He could practically feel his sword hand shaking in excitement. For the first time, blade and swordsman were united.

**-- End --**

* * *

**A/N: **Phew, it took ages to modify how the two bits slotted together. And I was almost going to post it without explaining how Meta gets his armour stuff back. Massive plothole!

And, in regards to the title, it's meant to show that both Jecra and Meta are lying to make each other feel better. As you'll see later, Jecra doesn't exactly tell you the whole truth. The whiteness is also a loose link to Garlude, and how Meta can't lie to her as much.

I don't believe there's anything else I need to mention…Except I'm going mad with my avatar, but that's besides the point. Thanks for reading and let me hear some of your feedback! If you need any form of explanation, don't hesitate to ask!


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